Snow Leave
by Zizi.West
Summary: Nyota falls ill on an away team mission on a snowy planet. Spock relies upon his crewmates to help his beloved recover. Meanwhile, a blizzard gives the Enterprise away team cabin fever.Kirk,Bones,OCs. Fluff, with TOS references. Rated M in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Snow Fall

Pairing: Spock/Uhura. Established relationship, early in the 5-year mission.

Characters: Spock, Uhura, Kirk, McCoy, various Enterprise crew, many OCs.

Rating: PG-13 to M in later chapters.

Warnings: fluff, illness, Emo!Spock, sex in later chapters (lots of characters having it or implications that they are having it).

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything related to Star Trek and do not derive any profit.

* * *

**Chapter One: Snow Fall**

_Enterprise Away Team Diplomatic visit, Delta Asilo_

_2260_

"Thank you very much for the tour," Kirk said, forcing a smile. His face felt cold. "Snow and ice have so many…interesting aesthetic qualities. Our team appreciates your time and the many detailed explanations. On behalf of Starfleet, _Şhukran-eh paws_…" Kirk glanced at his Communications Officer questioningly.

"_Şükran_ _eyh paz (gratitude and peace)_," Nyota gently murmured the proper pronunciation to Jim, and he repeated it correctly, tone for tone. The rest of the _Enterprise_ team, which on this occasion consisted of Kirk, Spock, Uhura, McCoy, Miranda, Kim, Jones, and Riley, also voiced their thanks.

Their cheerful tour guide's face was blue, but he was in the best of health. He clapped his gloved hands together. He was still bubbling with energy after over an hour on the snowy plains of rural Delta Asilo, a Federation-affiliated colony planetoid populated by a mix of alien humanoids and former Earth residents. "You and all of the _Enterprise_ team are quite welcome, Lieutenant! I'm disappointed that no one wants to go sledging now, but maybe humans aren't accustomed to spending much time in this climate, eh? Anyway, _Şükran_ _eyh paz_."

Over sixty minutes of Standard time had been spent walking around a snow-covered area marveling at the wonders of a the exterior of a large geothermal energy plant; the entrance to a mine; rock formations; the snowy shore of a huge frozen lake; the roofless ruins of an early planetary settlement; the snow-covered future site of another geothermal and solar energy plant; and some snow and ice sculptures left over from an early winter festival. Stiff with cold and politeness, Nyota kept smiling, provided translation as needed for the pair of offworld guests accompanying the _Enterprise _team, and yearned for hot tea with honey.

Everyone's formal body language relaxed as they realized that the guided tour was over. At last, they could board the nearby shuttle for the return trip to Bentley House, the large government-owned guesthouse where the _Enterprise _ team were staying. Heat, local food and notoriously strong drink awaited them on each of Bentley House's three floors.

The thought of being in a heated room almost brought a real smile to Nyota's face now, and she sent a soft touch across her bond to Spock. His reaction was a mere distracted flicker. She glanced over at him and saw him staring back at her, a strange expression in his eyes. A flush of light green edged his cheekbones and ears; even very warm-blooded Vulcans were affected by weather like this.

Was it too cold for him here, she wondered? Odd. She felt only a little bit cold, wrapped up in the local clothing presented as a gift to her by the representatives. She wore a long insulated hooded coat – with the hood down so that she could hear better - two long sleeved shirts, pants, boots, gloves, long quilted overskirt and flowing cape. She was also dizzy, but it had been several hours since breakfast. Nyota turned towards the _Matthew Henson_, the modified Federation shuttle which their hosts had provided for local transportation. Her suddenly unsteady feet refused to obey her will, moving in opposite directions.

Spock moved quickly across the snow and gripped her forearm to steady her. "Lieutenant?"

Her eyelids seemed to take longer to open and close than usual as she blinked at him. "Thanks. I must have stepped on a patch of ice." Her voice sounded strained even to herself. Why was her heart pounding so fast?

Jim Kirk had stopped walking and turned around to look at them. "Uhura? You okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Captain. I don't have the skills of an Iowan when it comes to getting around in the snow." Nyota blinked again, shivering, and saw two Kirks. Both of them were saying something to Spock that she couldn't follow. Kirk was shouting something about bones. Bones? Hers seemed to be turning to rubber even while she shuddered; she swayed in the freezing wind.

Oh, he meant _Leonard_. McCoy was in front of her, tricorder in hand, shooing Kirk away. "Don't squeeze her arm so tightly, Spock. Let her blood circulate freely."

"I understand that, Doctor McCoy. I am simply preventing the Lieutenant from falling." Spock's tone sounded clipped, tension adding a staccato sound to his words.

"Bless your little green heart. Let me do my job and help her. Her body temperature's dropping fast. Let's board that shuttle and get her warmed up." McCoy was frowning more than usual.

_Oh, no._ Nyota wished they would just give her a moment to collect her thoughts. She'd been tired this morning, not sick.

The rosy light reflected from the planet's three pink-tinted moons faded as clouds gathered overhead. "Base reports predictions of a blizzard," said Miranda, checking her communicator.

Nyota tried to take a step and pitched forward. Spock's arm hooked around her waist, preventing her from falling face down into the thick white drifts. Cold seemed to reach up to her from the snow and spread through her entire body. Everything turned sideways as falling snow flew into her eyes. Then she was being carried by Spock, her head resting against his chest.

* * *

_Şükran_ _eyh paz=Gratitude and peace. _Artificial trade language, an amalgam of Turkish, French, and Spanish assembled for this story.

Bentley House = Wilson A. Bentley: The "Snowflake" man, of Jericho, Vermont, the first person to photograph a single snow crystal in 1885. He photographed thousands of snowflakex before his death in 1931.

Matthew Henson= African American explorer and associate of Robert Peary during various expeditions, including the 1909 expedition described by the explorers as the first to reach the North Pole.


	2. Chapter 2: Move

**Snow Leave**

**A STXI fanfic**

**Chapter Two: Move**

Nyota couldn't feel Spock's body heat through the layers of protective clothing he wore. She couldn't feel any warmth, anywhere, at all. Even the snowflakes in her eyelashes seemed to refuse to melt. It was as though there had never been any warmth in this world they were visiting, other than the sincere friendliness of the local colonists and guide, who now stared at her with concern.

Kirk exercised his diplomatic skills, assuring their hosts that the Lieutenant was probably not very ill. He thanked them for their concern, saying that all would be well.

Spock's long, strong legs carried him quickly towards the shuttle. He glanced down at Nyota only once, but she had enough awareness left to read the worry in his dark eyes. She tried to send a reassuring thought across their bond but it was hard to focus enough to do it. The interior of the _Henson_ was heated, but she could not feel it. The wind increased, whipping snowflakes through the air, and the shuttle door shut with a comforting thud. Nyota heard her fellow crewmembers sigh in relief. The walls and ceiling turned, and Spock and McCoy were strapping her into a bunk.

"No!" It was embarrassing to collapse in front of her colleagues after a mere two hours spent out in the snow. She was a professional. She worked out in the _Enterprise_ gym nearly every day, sometimes twice a day when her schedule allowed. Or when she had the energy, which she hadn't had much of recently. Nyota Uhura strove to maintain the physical and mental toughness one needed to survive in Starfleet. Now here she lay in a bunk with straps over her thighs and shoulders. McCoy placed heated pads on her head, neck, chest and pelvis before covering her with a blanket which he pulled up to her chin as though she were a little child.

"Let me sit up, Len." She gave him a pleading look, the one that usually resulted in a "Yes" to her requests to McCoy.

"Sorry, sugar, but I think lying down is best in your present state." When would he put that bothersome medical scanner away? Spock's eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing the _sugar_ but McCoy's brisk manner hinted at nothing but business, and Spock's reaction was quickly concealed. "You might be too weak to sit up for the duration of the trip back." He looked over at Spock. "She's safe with me. I'll ride back here with her, keep an eye on her."

Spock unfolded a jump seat from the wall and strapped himself in. "I prefer to remain nearby. My presence here should in no way be taken as an indication of my lack of confidence in your abilities, Doctor. However, as First Officer I take an interest in the well-being of my bridge crew –"

"I get the idea, Spock. You know, you could just say that you're concerned about her."

"That is true."

"And they say that romance is dead," McCoy muttered in a low voice. Spock chose to ignore the remark.

The _Henson_, piloted by a local navigator, began its careful journey back to the guest house. As McCoy turned his attention to the biological thermoregulation report generated by the medical scanner, Spock slid a hand beneath the blanket, his fingers seeking Nyota's. Her eyelids repeatedly fluttered open and closed, and she continued to shiver. He brushed his warm fingertips across her icy ones. No response. He tried again. A faint pressure back this time, but almost immediately he realized that it was communicated through their bond, not her hand. He tried a third time. Nothing. He allowed himself to feel fear for exactly three seconds before stifling it. McCoy was one of the best doctors in Starfleet. Spock withdrew his fingers from Nyota's as McCoy strapped himself to a jump seat near Nyota's feet.

"Listen, Ny, can you stop shivering if you want to?"

It took a little effort but she willed her body to go still. "I feel better, Len. Thank you."

"Don't thank me now; you're not out of the woods yet. Count backward from 100 for me, by fives."

"95…I mean 100…95…90…80…" Spock grew rigid next to her. His hand found its way under the blanket again, and clasped her fingers.

"Dr. McCoy, the Lieutenant is obviously disoriented. Perhaps rest would be more useful now."

McCoy kept his voice even, but firm. "It's best that she doesn't fall asleep right now, Spock. I understand your concern, but please let me do my job so that the Lieutenant gets well enough to do her job again." Seeing the hint of unease in Spock's expression, he pitched his voice lower so that the others could not easily hear. "My diagnosis, at this moment anyway, is mild hypothermia. I'll check her over for other possibilities, but she displays the common symptoms. Most people recover with rest and rehydration. If you're going to take care of Nyota, you'll need to listen to me. Let me help both of you. Are we clear?"

"Affirmative." Spock's gaze held McCoy's; it was no longer challenging, merely sad. "I am appreciative of your efforts. Nyota is…important to me."

"You 'n me both."


	3. Chapter 3: Fly

**Snow Leave**

**A STXI fanfic**

**Chapter Three: Fly**

Kirk sat alongside Maddy, a local pilot and navigator, who made occasional comments on the varieties of snowfall and effects on travel.

"Last time we had a snowfall like this 'un, oh, it took near seven days for reg'lar transport to resume. Transporter beams had problems, roads were near impassible. Some o' the best snowplows in this quadrant of the galaxy are manufactured here - not bragging but is true – snowdrifts got so bad that a few snowplows broke in our region!" Catching sight of the expression on Kirk's face, she amended, "Of course, that was last time. This little blizzard, pshh, nothing. You all get out of here in three days at the most."

Jim sighed. He hated snow. He'd had many reasons for joining Starfleet, some deeply personal, some not so deep. Sometimes he felt lonely, homesick for the stable Midwestern childhood he'd never had. His memories of shoveling snow were not part of these late-night ruminations. If he never shoveled another sidewalk again, it would be one more reason he was grateful to Starfleet.

Fortunately, this outpost was nicely appointed, fitted out with the latest technology and well-maintained accommodations. Locals weren't shy about making self-congratulatory comments about their home, and Kirk couldn't blame them for it. The thick-walled, insulated buildings featured plain but comfortable interiors showcasing local textiles and furnishings. Even a Vulcan would enjoy the interior warmth provided by a combination of geothermal and solar heating. The local coffee substitute – some sort of dried root – tasted better than the oily, bitter, caffeinated swill on the _Enterprise_. Women worked beside men and other genders from different Federation planets. If one had to be snowbound someplace, one could do a lot worse than Delta Asilo.

Kirk glanced over his shoulder at Nyota. He hoped that her sudden illness was nothing serious, maybe the minor, temporary effects of overexposure to the cold.

He'd hate it if it were serious. Not the same way that Spock would, but it would unsettle him.

His First Officer sat in the jump seat next to the bunk where his Communications Officer lay. Spock's shoulders slumped. His face was in profile but he seemed to be lost in thought. Spock wasn't solving problems in his head as he often did to pass the time. This was a problem he couldn't solve.

Maddy was saying something to him. Kirk turned and studied her profile. She was rather striking; a prominent nose, smooth looking lips that smiled easily, compelling eyes – one black and one gray – with an curving fold at the corners. She had a slight overbite that she hadn't corrected with dentistry, and it made her upper lip protrude in a way that would probably be seductive all her life long. Her flight suit clung to wide hips and lush thighs. Kirk shifted in his seat.

"Sorry, I missed what you were saying." He leaned a little closer and gave her his most dazzling smile. The navigator's eyes widened and she looked as though she'd been struck by blue lightning before she recovered and turned her attention to the controls.

"Um, we land in three minutes." She hit a flashing "three minute warning" light, unnecessarily, as everyone could hear her. "The _Henson _will settle on the landing pad safely. Ground crew is clearing the snow cleared. Medical team is waiting to assist your crewmember. Hope she's all right, I do."

"Thank you. Dr. McCoy's got the situation in hand. Lieutenant Uhura should be fine. We appreciate all of the hospitality and professionalism everyone has shown here."

By the time they landed, the snowfall came so thick and fast that Jim's heart pounded, but Maddy brought the _Henson_ down to a gentle landing dead center on the landing pad.

Jim let his arm move to the outer edge of the armrest. "Nice work, navigator." He smiled at her without flirtation this time. She grinned and opened the shuttle door.


	4. Chapter 4: Is There in Snow No Beauty?

**Snow Leave**

**A STXI fanfic**

**Chapter Four****: ****Is There in Snow No Beauty?**

Guesthouse staff holding blankets and umbrellas rushed over to the open shuttle door, along with several anxious medics who appeared to be trying to place even able-bodied people on stretchers or lift them out of the shuttle in a fireman's carry.

McCoy began shouting. "I appreciate your concern, folks, but I got just _one_ patient on this shuttle, _one_, and she's right here! Stand back and give her some air, she's not fully conscious. No, Spock. You don't get to carry her this time. She goes out on the stretcher these nice people brought and from there to a biobed – y'all _do_ have one ready, don't you? Good. Stay awake, Ny. Move your arms, don't be still. Who are all these medics? Students? Oh, Lord have mercy. No wonder they can't keep their hands off everybody, they're just dyin' to diagnose and repair somethin'. Stand back, patient comin' through!"

"I want a full report on the treatment location and status of my Lieutenant as soon as she's stabilized," shouted Kirk amid the confusion as people spilled out of the shuttle and onto a covered walkway leading to the large guesthouse. Finding Spock among the small crowd, Kirk almost rested a hand upon his shoulder, stopped himself, and then did it anyway. "She'll be okay, Spock. I promise you: I will contact anyone on this planet that I have to in order to help her." _And help you_, he wanted to add.

The faint bleakness in Spock's expression eased. Something in his eyes changed as he looked at Jim. "Thank you, Captain." He looked at the group of medics carrying the stretcher under the watchful eyes of McCoy. "If you will pardon me, I would like to accompany Dr. McCoy and the medics to the room where the Lieutenant will be treated. Afterward, I will speak with Mr. Scott and the guesthouse staff to determine the feasibility of using a transporter beam during these atmospheric conditions. I will also contact my staff on the _Enterprise _and advise themthat our visit here may be extended."

Many people preferred to distract themselves from their worries, some with work, some with play. Work appealed to Spock, unsurprisingly.

"Of course, Spock. You know, as Captain, it really makes more sense for _me_ to contact Scotty and Sulu, but…I'm sure that you may have some insights he'd be glad to hear. I'm going to speak with the Ambassador. Just call my communicator when you find out something about Uhura, will you?"

"Agreed." The group finally entered the guesthouse. A wave of welcome heat hit them, and Jim saw Spock's shoulders straighten as he resumed the posture of a First Officer. "Thank you, Jim." Spock nodded, turned and followed the medical team and Nyota down a hallway.

Jim and the Ambassador sat down in an empty office to review local weather reports and communicate with the planetary transportation office. Jim decided not to delve too deeply into the question of using the transporter pad during severe snowstorms, choosing to leave Spock something to do while he waited for news about Nyota's condition. The _Enterprise_ team hadn't been scheduled to leave the planet for another day. The snowstorm probably meant the cancellation of a banquet and another site tour. Now the team faced an unscheduled, undesired shore leave.

The Ambassador, before leaving with his staff and some of the medics through a heated tunnel linked to his own home several yards away, assured Jim that the guesthouse was stocked with adequate food, water, and general supplies to last six months. Jim suppressed a shudder at the thought of being stuck there for so long and thanked the man, saying he welcomed the adventure.

As the man left, Jim wished he'd asked the Ambassador about games stored at the house. There were digital games aplenty in the large communal room and a large screen to project them on. However, as he looked through the broad triple-paned window of the common room out into the whirling snow, the bittersweet nostalgia crept back.

Jim hated shoveling snow, walking in it, and driving vehicles in it. He liked the way snow looked, and how it felt beneath your back while you moved your arms and legs to make a snow angel. He liked the soft crunching sound that it made when you packed a snowball just right, loose enough to splatter over your target and send rivulets of cold beneath a jacket collar. He loved kissing someone in it, feeling the snowflakes melt between lips and noses.

"Captain?"

The navigator was standing in the open door, her curves silhouetted in the hallway light.

"Ah, Navigator Maddy." Jim began to move away from the window, but she held up her hand to stop him, and he obeyed, intrigued.

"No need to move away from the window. I was going to have a look out, too." She came and stood beside him; they stared out into the blizzard.

"Are you stranded here, Navigator? Do you have a safe way home?"

"Snowshoe, maybe. Don't look so surprised, we often do that here. It's worked for thousands of years; why give up now?"

"I'm impressed. I never tried snowshoeing while I was a kid in Iowa. Could you really do it safely, in a blizzard like this?"

"No, maybe not. Can't see where to go, for 'un thing. Also wind's so strong right now. On a clear day – spring, summer, even early pre-winter season – I could step home in half an hour, Standard. Not this mess."

Kirk leaned against the window frame and crossed his arms in a way that made the muscles of his biceps and chest strain against the close-fitting shirt he wore. "I guess you're stuck with us tonight," he said.

The navigator smiled at him. "Comes with the territory. I always pack extra clothes when I fly a shuttle in winter, stay prepared. I'm flexible. I've slept on floors, couches, even shelves, all over this planet."

"Oh, there must be plenty of beds in a big place like this one. Or one could share."

"Ah. Yes, 'un could. I wouldn't mind the company."

A grin slowly spread across Jim's face. "I might snore a little."

"No trouble." She gazed back at him boldly. "I sleep soundly. Flying's tiring."

"Lucky you. I've always had a touch of insomnia."

"Pity. You should get some help for that."

Jim put an arm around her shoulder, then lifted his hand to caress the skin of her neck above her collar. "I have some ideas that would make us both tired enough to sleep soundly."

"I like men of ideas."

"Maybe we can discuss this after dinner?"

"I believe we'll be having a most pleasing discussion, Captain." Her hand moved down his back and rested at his waist.

"Please call me Jim, Navigator."

"Why, then you must call me Maddy. Jim."

"Maddy. But don't feel bad if I call you Navigator in the heat of the moment, or something."

"Or something, yes."

…

Spock stepped into an alcove in the hallway. The lights there were kept dim to save energy. With no one present to see, he let his face drop into both of his hands.

He wondered what he could bear to lose next. He stood that way for a few seconds, until he calculated the likelihood of someone walking along and seeing him even in this dark place. Dropping his hands and squaring his shoulders, he returned to the room where his bondmate lay.


	5. Chapter 5: Thaw

**Snow Leave**

**A STXI fanfic**

**Chapter Five: Thaw**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything related to Star Trek and do not derive any profit.

Warnings for this chapter: PG rating for indirect sexual references

…

"Hey, you! Skinny with a big ass!"

The voice came from within a group of students on the playground at Utendaji Advanced Junior Preparatory Academy. Before Nyota could turn around, the words were followed by a stone, which bounced off the rounded part of her body in question. Students sneered and giggled, but she couldn't identify her tormentor.

Nyota wanted to shout back a retort. However, her father had often told her, "_Never argue with a fool; people watching may not be able to tell the difference_." Anyway, she felt so profoundly tired that it was hardly worth expending the energy. At least she was in a warm place again.

She couldn't help grumbling, "I'm not _that _skinny. Auntie 'Chelle says that a woman needs a few curves for balance. Stop talking about my butt."

"Nyota? Your physique is not under discussion."

Why was Spock on the playground? Nyota opened her eyes and blinked up at his raised eyebrow and apprehensive expression. McCoy also leaned over her, a half-smile on his weary face.

"Welcome back, gorgeous." McCoy took her temperature with a medical scanner, and then used the old-fashioned method of touching his hand to her forehead. "No fever. You're recovering from hypothermia, Nyota. So if you aren't delirious, you were having a hell of a dream. I'll leave it to Spock to ask you what you dreamed about."

Illusions of the playground faded. Spock leaned over her solid, worried, real. She opened her mind to the bond. _Please touch me. I don't care who sees or if you're on duty_. He curled his hand around hers without hesitation.

Too soon, Spock stepped away as McCoy and two of the earnest-looking medics wheeled over a large machine suspended from a rack. They unfolded a series of long, flexible panels from a central hinge and positioned them over her body from the neck down, several inches above her skin. Gradually, a warming sensation spread through her entire body. It made her relaxed and sleepy. The anxiously cheerful medics kept up a steady stream of easygoing conversation with her, asking where she'd grown up, what year she'd entered Starfleet Academy, and how many siblings, her likes and dislikes. Nyota realized that they meant to keep her awake, and fought to keep from dozing off. They turned off the machine, moved it away, and covered her with more blankets.

People gave her warm soup and drinks; an intravenous drip was provided and then removed. Kirk peered through the door at one point, and Spock alternately paced around and in and out of the room, a worried frown creasing his face. McCoy directed the medical staff, gently scolded some, complimented others, and talked about his past shore leave on a recreation planetoid, where he'd indulged in skiing and alcoholic drinks served hot. Nyota wondered aloud why anyone would put butter into a warm, boozy drink and laughed weakly when McCoy shrugged his broad shoulders and assured her that it was "a mighty fine thang". Somehow she fell into a light sleep; she could hear the medical scanner whirring, but her dreams did not return her to her memories of playground teasing. She dreamed of sleeping instead.

Nyota awakened when the room grew quiet. The medics were gone, ordered to take a break by McCoy. The doctor was the only other person in the room aside from Spock, who sat beside the bed. His hand rested on the mound of blankets above hers; she could just barely feel its weight.

"Awake again, a_dun'a_?"

Even while Spock leaned forward, McCoy muttered something about an item in another room and left them alone. Spock's lips met Nyota's before the door closed.

"How reckless and illogical," she teased him.

"Only for you," he responded.

"How long have I been in treatment?"

"Approximately four hours, forty minutes, and eight seconds."

"Oh, that's a long ti...Spock, you just said _approximately_."

"I did not track the amount of time precisely. I left the room several times to determine the possibility of transporting our team back to the _Enterprise__;_ adverse atmospheric conditions may delay our return. I was also…distracted by my own illogical, personal concerns about a possible negative outcome." He studied their clasped hands. "Cold-related illnesses are something I know of primarily from study. Few Vulcans have direct or indirect experience of hypothermia. I did not understand the severity of your condition, and I did not know how to help you."

"Oh, sweetheart. Of course you couldn't, having grown up on a desert planet. I'm sorry it was difficult for you."

"You experienced alternating periods of sleep and wakefulness. Dr. McCoy and the local medical staff were careful and attentive. You were rehydrated and treated with a thermonormative device commonly used for cases of hypothermia. There was no logical reason for my reaction, however…I was afraid," he admitted. His face was pale and there were faint, dark green half circles below his eyes.

"No meditation?"

"Concentration was difficult. The emotions were difficult to control." He took a deep breath. "I did not know what to do. I feared losing you."

"Don't think about that. I'm here now. I'm tired, but I feel so much better. You know very well that McCoy's much more than an 'old country doctor'." Nyota freed one arm form the mound of blankets and stroked his hair. "At least I got hypothermia in the right place and with the right people. I'm just thankful that I wasn't alone here. You know the risks we take in Starfleet. Someday, one of us may suffer terribly while we're separated. If any career were made easier by a _carpe diem_ attitude, it's this one. But you know that."

Spock nuzzled his cheek against her hand. "You are precious to me."

"I love you too, Spock. Do something for me now, please? Help me sit up, first. Then find Bones and ask him to grant me clearance to return to my room?" With Spock's help, Nyota sat up and glanced around the small First Aid office. It was too small to serve as either a sickbay or a clinic and had obviously been set up at Bentley House to house two patients at most. "Where are my clothes? This is nice but I can't stroll through the hallways in it." She brushed a hand down the front of the soft, short, sleeveless gown the medics had dressed her in. Under happier circumstances, she might have worn it to lure Spock towards an early bedtime.

Spock frowned. "No one will see you in this state of undress, and you will not 'stroll' anywhere, Nyota. I will carry you myself." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went in search of Bones.

…

"Lieutenant Uhura exhibited signs of hypothermia, no signs of frostbite. It only takes half an hour of exposure to conditions like these before frostbite sets in. It's a wonder that only one of our crew needed treatment. We stomped around in that snow for nearly ninety freakin' minutes, Jim." McCoy rolled his eyes expressively. "Damn near made me wish I'd brought along a flask of whisky. Remind me – exactly what is the benefit of an _Enterprise_ crew visit here? Our hosts are nice as pie, but how is this good for them? They gotta feed and entertain the lot of us for who knows how many days."

"Delta Asilo is an important stop for trading vessels operated by suppliers for the leading industrial and agricultural businesses on many smaller Federation planets," Kirk explained, keeping his voice low. "Maybe this isn't the most high-profile mission, but the orders I received made it clear that it spreads good will. It keeps the wheels of Federation business turning. So far as I can tell, there's no hidden agenda here. They wanted to help Uhura. They like us, we like them-" his eyes strayed toward Navigator Maddy, then snapped back to McCoy's – "and if we just keep things pleasant this little detour goes down in the local government log as a good use of local resources."

Kirk looked toward the door of the Common Room as Spock entered. A few of the Delta Asilo locals stared, and the _Enterprise _crew halted their various conversations to stand at attention. Spock nodded, "At ease", and strode over to McCoy and Kirk.

"Doctor? Lieutenant Uhura would like to speak with you, please. " Spock turned to Jim. "Captain, I have compiled relevant data regarding atmospheric and logistical problems presenting an impediments to our return to the _Enterprise_ and sent you the file."

"Thanks, Spock. I wouldn't have minded waiting a few hours, under the circumstances, in case you'd rather look after Uhura," Kirk said quietly. Spock's stoic expression faltered, then resumed its usual calm so quickly that Jim wasn't sure he'd really seen the change happen.

"I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary. The Lieutenant has adequate care and her health appears stable now. I will continue to monitor information relevant to our situation and report new information as it becomes available."

Kirk frowned, but let the matter drop as he saw Bones shake his head. Just when he thought that he was beginning to understand his First Officer, the man concealed his 'real' self behind Vulcan reserve and formal Starfleet protocol.

There was room for personal expression in Starfleet; it was an impressively diverse workforce where many different races, languages, genders, and ages worked for the common good. Starfleet had its eccentrics as well, those who were fondly – and sometimes not so fondly – gossiped about. Jim had managed to form what he thought of as a true friendship with Spock, trusting him completely, and he thought that the trust was mutual. B y now he knew Spock well enough to know when Spock was stressed or hiding something. This was one of those times. Kirk knew that many people considered him superficial, but Kirk knew love when he saw it. He'd certainly spent enough time wishing he could fully experience it himself. He said only, "Thank you, Spock. I'll speak with you and McCoy later," and watched them go.

…

As soon as the blue of Spock's uniform shirt vanished through the door, Nyota swung her feet over the side of the bed. She found a pair of cloth slippers and slid them on. Leaning on the wall, she lurched and staggered to the nearby restroom – the medics had rehydrated her quite well indeed.

Afterward, she washed her hands, face and attempted a quick bath at the sink. She stumbled out of the bathroom just as Spock returned with McCoy, ending her moment of privacy.

The room tilted, and McCoy and Spock were holding her up, one on each side.

"So, I'm not quite recovered yet," Nyota said. Spock scooped her up and settled her down on the bed.

"Nowhere close," replied McCoy. He unsealed the self-heating bottle he had carried in with him and handed it to her. "Drink this. You need lots of hot liquids and lots of rest." Nyota sipped the sweet, hot beverage, a blend of proteins, vitamins and sugars. McCoy continued, "That's my prescription for the next two days, standard time. If you have any aches and pains I can provide a hypo spray."

"Thank you for everything you've done, Len. I'm much better. This has never happened to me before, and I didn't recognize the symptoms. I want to thank the medics, too."

"Just doing my job and keeping Starfleet running. Maybe the students should be thanking you; they're anxious to get hands-on experience, and they were falling all over themselves to help. Seemed like five different people tried to pile blankets on you or give you liquids."

"Indeed. I observed that there were far too many people in this room," grumbled Spock.

"You were one of 'em," McCoy shrugged. Spock looked at him blankly. "Anyway, Nyota, here's some advice for your recovery. We're stuck here for another two days at least, as Spock has found out. You displayed symptoms of mild hypothermia, and we began treatment soon enough to prevent nerve or brain damage – I've scanned you several times and detect no problems of that nature. However, you did seem fatigued during the past week, and you should have been more warmly dressed today. I didn't see you eat much at breakfast either.

"Now you need to get into a bed and stay warm, preferably with another warm body. Spock, you'll do. Skin-to-skin contact is one good, old-fashioned method for treating hypothermia out in the wilderness. Buck nekkid, you understand."

"So I had surmised," muttered Spock.

"Fortunately, Bentley House has nice, large beds. No need for sleeping bags here! TLC – that's 'tender, loving, care', Spock – will provide a cure. I want to see you at dinner, Nyota – eating properly this time. Run along now, y'all, I've got to write up a report."

"Len, you are shameless, but I'm grateful to you." Nyota smiled at McCoy as Spock wrapped a blanket around her and lifted her easily in his arms.

"Thank you, Leonard. I am in your debt." Spock inclined his head, his face serious, and carried Nyota off into the dim hallway. McCoy watched them go, glanced around the empty room, and sighed before he returned to work.

…

Nyota flattened one hand against Spock's broad chest, savoring his warmth beneath her palm. Occasionally, circumstances reminded her that the greater strength of Vulcans had romantic applications.

"Mmm, I like being carried by you. The only way this could feel better would be if you were bare chested. Or completely naked." The image formed in her mind. Spock sensed it. A gentle wave of arousal traveled from him across the bond and made Nyota shudder.

"Are you cold?" he asked in a teasing tone of voice.

"You know I'm not cold, you big handsome man."

Spock mounted the broad, curving stairway leading to their second floor room. He lowered his voice and spoke in Vulcan. "Our recent work responsibilities on the _Enterprise_ have prevented us from being intimate for six days, nine hours, and thirty-one minutes."

"That's right, talk dirty to me, baby," Nyota whispered back in colloquial Standard. "Give me those hours and minutes. Ooh, is that big hour of yours _really_ sixty minutes long?"

"Your perverse sense of humor appears to have survived your illness in an intact state. Does this mean that your prognosis is good?"

"Yes, I intend to make a full recovery and enlist your assistance in testing my physical endurance. Perhaps you will make space for me in your busy schedule…Commander?"

Spock reached the door of Nyota's room. Unaware of any formalized partnerships, the government staff on Delta Asilo had followed Starfleet protocol and booked separate rooms for all of the _Enterprise_ team.

"You tempt me, but I intend to follow directions and encourage you to sleep," he sighed. "Nyota, please open the room with your palm scan." She did, and Spock set her down on the bed. "Do you prefer to stay here?"

"No, I want to be with you. Help me pack my things, and let's move to your room. The bed ought to be large enough for both of us." She hesitated, and laid her hand on his cheek. "Spock, is it acceptable to you if everyone here knows we are together? Most of the _Enterprise_ crew already knows, but this is a diplomatic mission. I don't want anything to affect the way you are perceived."

An intense expression burned in Spock's gaze for a moment before he pulled her into a tight embrace. "I do not _care_. Earlier today I thought that I might lose you forever. Let them look, let them talk. Our public behavior, both on and off-duty, has always been discreet and correct. It has been so discreet that often no one believes I have any connection to you at all. I have seen _diplomats_-" he said the word in a dry, nearly sarcastic tone – "stare at you, and flirt, and whisper and it disturbs me. You are mine. I will _not_ be denied my rights to care for and protect my _a'duna_ behind closed doors, nor anywhere else."

"Spock. My Spock. I would never deny you in public. I am happy to let everyone know. You know I would protect you as well. I usually ignore those creepy diplomatic types, but I have warned them off plenty of times. In various languages, and once physically-" With their skin still touching, Spock saw a memory of Nyota's foot in a spike heeled satin evening shoe, taking a heavy, "accidental" step onto the exposed skin revealed by one man's sandals. "At other times, I had only to mention Starfleet regulations or my Vulcan companion, and the conversations ended immediately. Don't think about this any longer."

Nyota moved the few things she'd brought from the dressing table into a small traveling bag and sealed it. "I want my time alone with you now. You've offered your room." She kissed the elegant plane of his cheekbone, his earlobe, the point of his ear, smiling as his breath caught in response. "Take me."


	6. Thundersnow

**Snow Leave**

A STXI fanfic

Chapter 6: Thundersnow

Warnings: Sexuality (PG-13/M), purple prose, Emo!Spock

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to ST or Paramount Pictures, don't profit.

…

Dressed only in a towel, Nyota stepped out of the steamy bathroom and stretched langorously across the bed in Spock's room. His face lit up with appreciation when she appeared in the doorway wearing no more than a length of fabric threatening to collapse under the law of gravity. Her much longed-for shower completed, she felt currents of air move over a few stray water droplets left on her skin. She shivered and tried to suppress it. _Oh, no. Not again_.

Spock leaned away for a moment to put his padd on the bedside table.

_Maybe he di__dn't notice_. Nyota ran a hand along his side, skimming her fingers over the place where his heart beat steady, strong. Grasping a handful of the soft bed coverings, she pulled them away and caressed the length of the bare, strong thigh nearest to her. Spock's nostrils flared slightly before the corner of his mouth curved up in a half smile.

"You are very hungry, are you not, _ashayam_?"

Somehow her brain wasn't working in a way that allowed her to formulate a verbal response, so she leaned forward and bit his thigh instead. It wasn't one of the hard bites that Spock enjoyed most – they usually took some time to work their way up to that, increasing the pressure and frequency as their passion grew – but she could still hear a purring sound from deep within his chest before his hands closed over her shoulders and he flipped her onto her back.

Spock's tongue found the beads of water on her skin and lapped at them as her heart began to pound. With one firm tug the towel pulled away from her body, and he leaned over her, nude, his eyes large and dark with promised delights. His teeth pressed gently into the sleek muscles of her calves, the tender places behind her knees, the insides of her thighs, the small of her back. She could hear herself whimpering shamelessly as his hands turned her, lifted her, opened her to gain access to new places to bite and lick.

Nyota writhed, trembled, reached for him, and soon her mouth and hands moved over his smooth hot skin with an equal fervor, touching, kissing, taking pleasure in all of his hard and soft places. She teased the points of his ears, grabbed his hands to tickle and nibble on them. They clutched each other and moved apart, moaned at the temporary loss of skin contact and moved together again.

Tumbling, rolling, they knocked the bed coverings to the floor. Nyota fumbled for the towel, managing to spread it out at least halfway underneath her hips – she didn't stop to look – before Spock moved between her open, trembling legs, lowered his head for one more wet kiss against her clitoris, then rose up to enter her.

Six days, nine hours, and thirty-one minutes _had_ been too long. Nyota heard Spock's answering groan as she cried out, her head and shoulders pressing into the mattress. He raised himself on his forearms and moved within her, first slowly, then with an even, pulsing rhythm. Nyota tilted her hips in a way that let her rock back to meet him. The way they rose and fell together released a memory of being on the deck of a ship, and the thrill she'd felt as the vessel was lifted by the waves. Clutching his hand, she pressed his fingers to her temple so that he could share her thought. His eyes widened; she hoped that he also saw the ocean blue around them, edged by the snowy half-light of the room. Spock slowed his motions and kissed her deeply before his hips resumed their steady motion.

The deprivation of the past week soon stripped away all finesse. Spock pushed a hand down between them, curved his fingers at the angle Nyota liked, and used the wetness they'd made together to rub her clit. She moaned, and their pace grew wilder, until Nyota felt the pressure and motion carry her away in a wave of delicious sensations. Before the pleasure faded, Spock's fingers were at her temple again. "Nyota_, ashayam,_" he gasped. Spock's shoulders curved forward over her as he found his own release; then his body relaxed on hers. He remembered to rest half of his weight on the bed.

Nyota, panting, felt a deep shiver run through her body from head to toe. Lifting his head, Spock was about to smile proudly at her before he realized it wasn't _that_ kind of shiver. He quickly used the towel to clean them both up a bit before he retrieved the sheet and blankets and pulled them over their bare bodies.

"Nyota, are you well?"

"I'm not sick, just cold. Hold me, I'll be fine in a moment."

_Not again_. His heart pounded in his side as he wrapped himself around Nyota in a spoon position. "I was too demanding, and you are still recovering. Forgive me."

She still felt awake enough to respond with a playful elbow jab to his ribs. "I demanded just as much from you, probably more. It was so _good_," she purred. "I don't like being separated from you, but this almost makes it worth it."

"I also derived comfort and pleasure from our union." He kissed the back of her neck. "Will you sleep now?"

"Trust me, I'm not fighting it." Nyota's eyes drifted closed, then blinked as her stomach growled. "I need more than soup and sex, obviously. Wake me in two hours and let's get some food."

"I will bring a meal to you. You must rest."

"I want to move around a bit, be social. Let's follow a routine while we're here, eat with the others like we would on board ship." She yawned. "You rest too, sweetheart," she said, and dozed off.

Concentrating deeply, Spock raised his body temperature by half a degree, willing Nyota to absorb his heat. Her skin still felt cold. Not the usual, pleasant coolness that she maintained as a human. This was slightly different. He angled his legs so that her feet rested atop his, but her toes still felt like little lumps of ice. He curled his hands over her fingers, trying to warm the cold tips of her own. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable – he would have preferred to rest naked underneath a sheet and lightweight comforter and allow their combined body heat to warm them both - Spock kept the heavy blankets pulled over them.

Waiting, he closed his eyes and let his mind reach out to hers across their bond, questioning.

Sensations of fatigue, anxiety, and cold shifted in Nyota's mind, followed by a sense of her worrying about him.

_I am not the one who is ill, ashayam_.

She protested, resisting the mention of illness. He saw her concern over her work schedule for the past month, her effort to maintain friendly interactions with colleagues, her desire for challenge and perfection. There were fleeting moments of satisfaction with completed work projects followed by feelings of urgency about new tasks. There was an expression of discontent – Nyota might have used the Standard colloquialism _feeling_ _grumpy_ – regarding the nights when neither of them had the energy to make love. A stray algorithm floated through, followed by a line of text she wanted to translate, before the images faded and sleep overtook her. Spock lowered his hand and carefully arranged the pillows and bed coverings, making sure that she could rest comfortably and breathe easily. He slowed his thoughts for half an hour, then reached for his padd and continued working while his _adun'a_ slept.

…

_Earlier_

_The hallway outside room 207, Bentley House, Delta Asilo_

Leonard McCoy saw the door to Nyota's empty room standing open. The bed inside was smooth and untouched. She was in Spock's room as he'd expected, then. He was glad. Spock had looked almost frightened earlier. The devoted Vulcan would make a protective nursemaid for Nyota, perhaps refusing to let her resume normal activities until he'd researched hypothermia in all its forms and from various historical perspectives. It was also very satisfying to see the First Officer – heck, any of the feisty, chatty _Enterprise_ bridge crew - defer to McCoy's superior knowledge of a subject instead of debating with him. Once in a while, he managed to get the last word.

He really wanted a beer right now. Or a whisky. Or any local booze. McCoy turned towards the stairs, ready to find a drink and, with luck, some company. He heard hushed voices approaching and on some unnamable impulse stepped into an alcove in the hallway, one of many similar spaces housing a small food storage cabinet stocked with snacks, extra towels, and a water spigot.

"Jim, you are the worst of naughty men," chuckled a female voice in the local accent. "Why you have to show me your room now? Everybody will say I do wicked things with you in business hours."

"We're hardly on a regular schedule because of this storm. Wicked things are good any time. You don't have to come into my room yet. I just want you to know where it is, for convenience, later."

"You think I am just a convenience for you?"

"Aw, Maddy, no, you know I really like you…that's not what I meant at all. I'm sorry." McCoy couldn't see but was sure that Jim was flashing the famous Kirk smile, known for its power to turn _no_ into _yes_. "We don't have to sneak around, beautiful. I'd be happy to throw you over my shoulder and carry you up here – you like the sound of that, I can tell! I just thought, in case you didn't want the others to know, I'd tell you how to find me. Room 201. Only if you want to. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do, Maddy."

There was a rustling of fabric, and a sound like a jacket being unsealed. A pause, heavy breathing, and then Jim's voice again, pitched lower this time. "You just tell me what you like and I'll do it for you, understand?"

More rustling fabric. "You let me think 'bout this first, Jim Kirk." McCoy heard an odd sound like a heavy, muffled slap. "See you later, pretty boy." A single set of booted footsteps retreated. McCoy peered around the edge of the alcove to see Kirk rubbing one butt cheek as he stared openmouthed at the retreating form of the curvaceous navigator who had flown the _Henson_.

"Jim, I'm waiting for the day you return from one of these away missions with an interesting new 'condition' for me to cure. Or maybe a busted lip from one of your brokenhearted, cast-off partners," drawled McCoy. Kirk spun around with a startled expression, then shrugged.

"We're stuck here for another day and a half, according to Spock. What better way to pass the time? Off the clock, of course."

McCoy shook his head. "The Prime Directive should include a note about horny Captains interfering with the locals."

"Back off, Len. We both want it, and we're both adults. Hey, I always use protection; I want my lovers to remember me for a good reason. Anyway, I really like her."

"I'm sure you like them all." The men turned to walk downstairs.

Jim punched McCoy in the shoulder. "How long has it been since you had any? You weren't spying, were you?"

"No. I do not _spy_. I came to check on Uhura. Everything's fine."

"Are you going to answer my first question?" Silence. "Bones, we have got to find you some companionship. For an hour or a week of shore leave, anything."

McCoy glared at Jim. "I ain't so desperate that I'm about to let you pick for me. Don't get me wrong, your lady here is pretty, but I'm a bit long in the tooth for these flings you seem to thrive on."

Kirk shrugged. "Maybe I'm getting a bit old for flings, too. I've wondered about settling down. Can't figure out how to do it, though." He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

A soft cry, barely perceptible through the heavy door of Room 203, sounded in the brief pause. McCoy cleared his throat. "I'm going to have a drink, and maybe get a poker game started after dinner. Care to join me?" The cry sounded again, louder and joyful this time, followed by a low, masculine moan. "I didn't hear a thing, did you?"

Jim Kirk straightened his shoulders, and his body assumed the half-at-rest, half-on-duty posture of a more seasoned Captain. "No, Len, I didn't hear anything either. I'm in for that game. Let's find out if anyone else wants to play."

The men moved downstairs, quickly.

…

"Nyota, Dr. McCoy recommends warm liquids, rest, and quiet."

"Can't I have the first two if I sit in the Common Room with a blanket and some tea? We should let the others see us and put their minds at ease. They'll see that I don't have some terrible illness, and that you are trying to help me recover. Any gossip that finds its way back to the _Enterprise_ – to Federation contacts here on Delta Asilo - will be 'good gossip'. The longer I'm out of sight, the more likely they are to wonder what we're doing up here, or to assume that I'm severely ill." She caressed his cheek. "I know that you'd rather not waste time thinking about other people's opinions of us, but we can turn this to our advantage."

"Your reasoning is not entirely logical, as it is based in emotions and conjecture. However, I trust your knowledge of human nature, Nyota." Spock rested his hand underneath her elbow. "I will guide you downstairs safely, and join you and the others for dinner. I plan to devote the remainder of my time this evening to reviewing atmospheric conditions and possible solutions to our problem."

"Oh, no you don't, Mister. You're staying downstairs and socializing for at least three hours. Challenge Kirk to a game of chess. Play cards with Miranda, McCoy, and Kim. Listen to Jones and Riley sing. Stare out the window at the snow and make pleasant, meaningless remarks to the local staff. I want our newer team members to get to know and like you."

"Structured social events continue to be awkward times for me." Spock sighed. "Unstructured time is even more difficult. Atmospheric conditions and logistical concerns may result in up to thirty-six more standard hours here; the probability is ninety-one point eight percent -" Nyota chuckled, and he paused.

Spock said, "To borrow a phrase from you, 'must you give me that _look_'?"

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she murmured, "That's thirty-six more hours of me having fun with my man. You spend a minimum of three hours in unstructured social time after dinner and I may happen to feel very appreciative tonight."

"A minimum of three, but no more than five." Spock tried and failed to control a shudder as Nyota stroked the point of his left ear. "Any longer," he growled, "and I may be compelled to punish you." His large hands clasped her hips.

"It's a deal."

…

Nyota and Spock joined the group in the large communal kitchen, freshly washed and dressed, Spock in his Starfleet uniform and Nyota wearing warm trousers and a thick cardigan with her Starfleet tunic. Eagerly welcomed by the restless crew, she offered to help prepare the meal but was assigned the task of opening food packages, which required minimal physical exertion.

"I'm much better, thanks to Len and the great medical staff here. And Spock, of course. I even walked downstairs." Nyota saw Len approaching her with a medical scanner. "Len, I'm fine; there's no need to scan me."

"Just being thorough, Lieutenant." The scanner whirred softly. "Your body temperature is normal, heart rate, normal...you're likely on the way to a full recovery. No wine or any other booze for a couple of days." He lowered the machine and winked at her. "You look surprisingly well-rested."

Spock's back was turned to both of them as he sliced hot peppers on a separate work surface, but Nyota saw his shoulders stiffen slightly. Nyota met McCoy's innocent expression with a mock glare. Then she raised one eyebrow.

McCoy pretended to stifle a cough but he couldn't hide his grin.

...

Four long tables placed in an open square faced the large picture window in the Common Room. The group of eight _Enterprise_ crew, five local staff and medics, and Maddy sat down to a large, eclectic meal assembled from local foods and some of the comfort foods _Enterprise_ crew members had packed for the trip. Outside, snowflakes continued to swirl in the wind, providing a shifting monochromatic display for the diners. Spock insisted that Nyota try a little red pepper with her stir fried vegetables, stating that she might find its warming effect helpful. Riley stared a little bit, but Jones, Kim, and Miranda concealed their surprise at their First Officer's benevolent manner.

A jagged ribbon of light suddenly cut through the whirling snowflakes. Seconds later, a tremendous booming sound made everyone except Spock and Maddy jump in their seats. Bentley House seemed to rattle, despite its sturdy stone construction.

Jones gasped and dropped her fork. "A thundersnow! I saw one in Chicago once, years ago. I thought it was a rare occurrence."

McCoy stood and moved towards the window, curious. "Will ya look at that. I've been through ice storms in Kentucky and cold snaps at home in Mississippi, but never this."

Spock joined the half-circle of observers standing several cautious meters away from the large window. "As our hosts could tell you, such phenomena is not an uncommon occurrence here on Delta Asilo." He nodded towards the manager of Bentley House, who looked pleased to be acknowledged. "Low-level humidity, low-level air instability, and strong dynamic updrafts of air create favorable conditions for thunderstorms. If a cold front passes over a large body of water at a comparatively warmer temperature, such as the lake we visited earlier today, convection currents may send the moist air near the surface up to the colder atmosphere, resulting in some situations in a thundersnow."

"As I remember from spending time in Oklahoma, thundersnows may also happen if a very moist warm front moves between colder surface air and colder air above the surface air. More convection currents," Jones added.

"I saw it in a mountain range during an away mission on my previous ship," said Kim. "Similar phenomena – a warm front with lots of moisture, moved up a mountainside where the air was much colder at higher elevations. Fortunately I was safe at base camp. Not quite as cozy as this one, but we survived with a good story to tell."

The Manager of Bentley House clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Nothing to worry 'bout, everyone. We'll make sure you're safe. We're a tough bunch on Delta Asilo! I keep a ready guesthouse. Geothermal heating throughout. We have two power sources and two generators here, plenty food too. You all just sit tight."

There was another bright flash, followed by a teeth-rattling thunderclap. The lights of the Common Room flickered and went out.


	7. You're Getting Warmer

Chapter 7: You're Getting Warmer

Rating: T this chapter.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption, references to sexuality

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or anything related to Star Trek and do not derive any profit.

As the main power system failed, the large room plunged into a velvety darkness. Some weak, pinkish light reflected from the snowdrifts outside through the window. Someone voiced a startled shout and people gasped, but no one screamed. Starfleet and the medical students were a hard-headed bunch.

"Everybody all right?" shouted McCoy. A chorus of voices responded affirmatively. Nyota heard feet move against the stone floor and found herself surrounded by backs and broad shoulders. The _Enterprise_ men had formed a loose circle around her, Jones, Miranda and some of the students. Starfleet women and men both had combat training, but the darkness triggered some primal male protective instinct. Nyota felt Yeoman Miranda's arm pressed against hers, elbow bent as she held her phaser. Jones' back was to hers, but Nyota assumed the other woman also had her phaser ready and set to stun. Her own phaser was concealed upstairs; she mentally scolded herself.

_I have a good bow, but it is in the castle_, Scotty had said to her once, quoting an old Scottish proverb about the value of preparation.

Spock's deep voice rang out as he called out to the guesthouse security system. "Computer, security status."

The unit was still operating on backup power. "Perimeter secure, no changes in occupancy."

"_Calma!_ Put those weapons down! We keep guests safe here!" The Bentley House Manager ran across the room, her hands fluttering nervously in the air. "I told you, we got two generators, heat and backup power here. No problem!" She located a panel on a wall, fumbling with the code.

Footsteps scuffled in various directions. The _Enterprise _crew spread out, ready for the next stage of action. Jim and Spock gave brief directions to the crew, outlining an emergency plan. Nyota excused herself to ask one of the Bentley House staff about backup power for computers and communications units. There was no need for panic yet.

"Merciful heavens," the Manager groaned. "Backup system switch not working, sorry. We got lanterns for every hand here, I will get. Wait a little moment. No weapons, please! Starfleet kill us all in this dark," she muttered, and scurried off.

"This is nothing we can't handle," Riley said. "Bring on the power failures!"

McCoy prepared himself to offer help if someone became disoriented. People were often injured in situations like this – bumping into furniture, tripping on stairways or rugs. The Bentley House staff returned carrying small battery operated lanterns. Everyone moved toward the center of the room to claim one. McCoy joined the shifting crowd of people. As he stood listening to the Manager explain that someone was being fetched from the Ambassador's mansion to help fix a problem with the backup system, a warm hand pressed against his leg in the semi-darkness.

For some reason he didn't move. He allowed himself to feel its shape and weight for a moment. How desperate or twisted was he, standing still while some stranger felt him up?

McCoy shifted as though suddenly aware of the touch. The hand remained. He cleared his throat and shifted again. The hand squeezed his thigh, patted it, and moved away. McCoy didn't turn around. This had to end here. He needed no more troubles to keep him awake at night.

…

Seemingly homesick for the Enterprise's technology and engine rooms, Spock and the rest of the _Enterprise _crew joined the Ambassador's technician in the rooms where the geothermal heat pumps and other equipment were located. Nyota stayed until she began to feel tired, and Spock asked Yeoman Kim to walk her back to the Common Room.

The medical students and Bentley House's Manager had decided to move from emergency to party mode. Bottles of fruit wine and spirits sat open on the dining tables. The students sang and danced as two of them drummed on empty plastic buckets from the kitchen; another student played a flute-like instrument. The Manager rummaged in a closet and pulled out a guitar. Nyota lay on the couch under a soft blanket and watched.

The lights were dimmed, with power at about three-quarters its usual capacity. There was enough power to use the gaming units, but the group wanted to create their own entertainment. Another raid on the closet produced a box of candles, which were placed in empty wine bottles and lit. It resembled a cabaret scene from a very old holo "movie". A faint, sweet fragrance wafted from the candles; real beeswax, or a fine replication.

The rest of the _Enterprise _crew returned, having exhausted the entertainment possibilities of the geothermal system. Nyota smiled as her crewmates relaxed into a rare friendly on-planet encounter. It was nice to be in on a planet where there seemed to be little reason to fear kidnap, assault, or accusations of creating interplanetary political strife.

Jones, Miranda, and Riley sang, accompanied by Kim and the students on guitar, flute, and buckets. Jim also sang, enthusiastically if not melodiously. Feeling temporarily restored by the good company, Nyota managed one song. People paused for drinks – "I practice medicine, not hangover cures," McCoy grumbled –before the students began a local version of charades including food as a category.

"It snows so much on Delta Asilo that you learn how to keep yourself busy indoors," explained a student. "The ability to entertain is a gift."

Spock said little, though he listened attentively to the musical performances and nearly smiled while Jim and Nyota sang. He allowed McCoy to draw him into a poker game with the Manager and Kim. Nyota tried to remain alert as the time slipped by, reluctant to leave the convivial atmosphere. The reflected light from the snow made it difficult to believe night had fallen; everything seemed suspended in a mystical twilight. She looked out the large window. "The snowfall has completely stopped."

Riley stretched his long limbs and peered out at the white drifts. "Sure has, but those snowdrifts are nearly as tall as I am. No road travel, for sure." He sat down on the end of the couch at Nyota's feet. "I'm almost sad to leave our new friends so soon, but maybe we've got a chance at transwarp beaming tomorrow?"

"That may depend upon how we can adjust our mission orders. Kirk has information about our alternate plans." Nyota looked around the room. Jim Kirk was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Maddy. Deflecting attention from their absence, Nyota turned back to Kevin Riley and smiled. "I wanted to ask the students about snowshoeing. Maybe we could get them to teach us before we leave?"

…

Jim knew how to undress quickly. He'd just broken his own record. He felt a twinge of guilt about leaving his gold and black uniform bunched in a heap on the floor in his room instead of hanging it up, but there were urgent manners at hand. And mouth. And breast. And hip. And -

…

"Put those snowshoes away! Snowshoeing while drunk is a bad idea, day or night. You youngsters oughta know better, I thought y'all were medical students! I've already treated one case of hypothermia today. She's got the good sense to stay on the couch, at least."

"Not for much longer, Len," Nyota said. "I'd like to try before we leave."

"You can wear mine, Lieutenant Uhura!" chirped one student, swaying unsteadily in the doorway with snowshoes held aloft. "First you stand by the window and watch our demonstration. Then I come back in, help you put 'em on and you try."

In the interest of safety, the students agreed that only three would go outside. They gave a theatrical exhibition in front of the large window, snowshoeing in slow motion, dancing and pretending to play sports. McCoy knocked on the window after ten minutes, signaling them to return. Slightly less tipsy but still giggling, the students obeyed. Jones and Miranda volunteered for the first Starfleet snowshoe lesson. As she watched her laughing crewmates take careful steps over the crisp snow, she felt Spock's warmth move next to her at the window.

"Perhaps after you are recovered, Nyota," he said in a low, amused tone.

"Only me? No snowshoe lesson for you?" she smiled up at him.

"We are, officially, still on duty."

"Don't discipline Jones and Miranda for doing this. They're engaging in a social activity, and gaining a new skill."

Spock almost looked hurt. "I am surprised that you think I would do such a thing. I do see the value of recreational and social activities, and this evening may foster good will. That is, if anyone can remember it tomorrow," he sighed. "A different matter has come to my attention. Some of our crew have begun to behave differently during the past few hours. I do not believe that alcoholic beverages are the cause."

"It's only natural that people would relax while snowbound. Maybe we'll all be sitting around that fireplace and telling stories later. "

"Only natural? Only human?"

"Spock –"she looked at him and sought understanding through the bond. He was teasing, maybe. "Do you _feel_ different?"

He pitched his voice even lower. "I _felt_ more emotionally uncontrolled with you this afternoon than I have for many weeks. The pleasure was intense. Believe me when I say that I always enjoy our intimacies, but I felt unusually…free." He closed his eyes for a moment, as though to steady himself. "I have allowed myself to recall the delights and sensations of our lovemaking each hour since. Is it only human to do so? Whatever it is that affects the others affects me as well."

"Sweetheart, are you feeling like yourself? Have you been at the wine? No? There's no chocolate here. Something's up."

One corner of his mouth turned up in a seductive half-smile. "It is indeed. Would you care to see the evidence?" He looked her up and down deliberately. "I am amenable to showing you."

"Slow down, mister. I've got half an hour left to go before our bedtime agreement takes effect; let's discuss this later."

"Twenty-eight minutes and five seconds. It will be all the sweeter for the waiting." The smile was in his eyes as well, shaded with something beyond his usual teasing.

"That's it. I'm having McCoy put his xenobiology knowledge to use and check you over, first thing tomorrow."

Nyota glanced around the room. Jim Kirk and Maddy had returned, dazed smiles on their faces. They drifted over to the window.

"Commander. Lieutenant." Maddy nodded at them formally, but her bi-colored eyes met theirs only briefly before she looked at Jim again.

"How are the snowshoe lessons going?" Jim said, as though he'd never been upstairs.

"Safely enough, despite the tipsy teachers." Nyota shrugged. "People are enjoying themselves." Riley and Kim had traded snowshoes with Jones and Miranda, and were involved in a foot race with the students. Jones and Miranda were building a snow woman with a prominent bosom; Jones sculpted a Starfleet logo on one side.

"I hate most things about snow," Jim said with a sudden passion, "but something about this place almost makes me like it. Maddy, I bet you snowshoe as well as you fly. Give me a lesson."

Spock's attitude had sobered instantly upon Jim's arrival, and now his eyebrows veered into a frown. "Captain, perhaps you should avoid—"

"Why not, Spock?"

"I got something better," Maddy said, unable to read the small changes of Spock's expression. "Powersleds, we got two here. Fast 'uns."

"I'm in, let's go!" Jim grinned and followed Maddy from the Common Room.

Nyota sighed. Spock groaned. Their eyes met.

"We could follow them, knock Jim out cold, and stage a mutiny," she said dryly.

"Indeed; there are times when such methods seem to be the only ones likely to gain the Captain's attention."

…

Engines roaring, the two powersleds skimmed across the bright snow. The clouds had parted and three moons reflected brilliant light across the white fields. Jim learned to drive the powersled quickly. Maddy laughed, thrilled as he tested the machine's limits, speeding up a little ridge and over the edge, making sudden turns and swerving.

By the time he'd hit his teen years, Jim had been able to drive any vehicle people let him get close to, legal or otherwise. He'd met plenty of women who could handle fast vehicles, but none recently. Certainly none as damn near reckless as Maddy was. She'd piloted the _Henson_ with impressive caution and care. Now she maneuvered the powersled across the snow with fearless confidence, zooming ahead of Jim before whipping the machine around and driving straight at him, then swerving aside suddenly and spraying him with snow. She drove over a small ridge while standing up on the seat. Once she fell off, but rose to her feet laughing before he could come and help her up. She'd offered – or was it threatened? – to take Jim cross-country skiing. He supposed that Maddy could find a way to make that dangerous, too.

Jim stopped his powersled and looked back over his shoulder. Bentley House was still visible, barely. He waved his arms and Maddy and gestured, indicating that he wanted to go back. She nodded and waved to show that she understood.

Somehow, Jim took a wrong turn before the next ridge. Maddy had been behind him; now he couldn't see her. Staying calm, he looked into his helmet visor to check the navigational display, only to find it displaying a nonsensical series of colorful pulsing shapes. He heard the sound of Maddy's powersled behind him, and her anxious voice sounded through the comm.

"Jim, no, come away from there! Turn back. Follow me."

Jim moved his powersled a little ways up the ridge and looked down; there appeared to be a patch of partially cleared land below him. Bare rock? Dry earth? He spoke into the comm inside the helmet.

"Mads, come here, you gotta see this. What is it? Some kind of underground hot spring?"

She pulled up beside him. He could barely see her face behind the heated visor in the dim light, but her eyes were wide and frightened. "Come away, stop looking."

He couldn't help it. He turned toward the bare patch again. The snow ringed its edges in a nearly perfect circle. Heat flowed from it. Everything in his body seemed to respond to the circle; it pulled at him.

Maddy's gloved hand clamped around Jim's arm. "Turn! Go!" She slapped at his chest, pushed his shoulders, trying to make him turn around. Her shouts were shrill and overly loud inside the helmet, and Jim's thoughts cleared. He turned the powersled and drove back up the trail he'd made in the snow, closely followed by Maddy, who kept shouting directions at him until Bentley House was in view again.

"What was it?" Jim demanded.

Her voice trembled. "Can't tell you, you will think that I lie. Bad place."

"No kidding, I figured that out when I was about to drive off that ridge just to get closer to it. Tell me, Maddy. "

"Not important. Everyone safe at Bentley House, just stay away from that place. Why you need to know more?" she pleaded.

"This isn't between us. If it's dangerous, it's Federation business."

Softly lit, warm looking Bentley House grew closer. "Fine, I do not want Federation trouble. I tell you inside, not with helmet on."

A conference room scolding from McCoy and Spock's disapproving, pointed remarks awaited Jim Kirk inside. Maddy slipped away while Jim asserted his right to personal time and autonomous action while on an away mission. He described the bare stone circle to his First Officer and Lieutenant Commander. However, he realized that McCoy found his description vague and Spock wanted more information than intuition or an emotional response. Jim resolved to get an answer from Maddy before another day passed.

…

McCoy listened carefully to Spock's quiet description of Nyota's shivering and her cold fingers and toes. "Could be anemia and poor circulation. I'll give her some supplements; suggest changes for her replicator settings on the _Enterprise_. While we're stuck here, it might be good to ask if they've got any liver stuck in that freezer – sorry Spock, don't mean to offend your sensibilities but it might be helpful right now. Keep an eye on her and while we're snowbound here, make sure she gets some exercise. While she's on her feet, I mean."

Spock actually flushed green.

"Thank you, Leonard. It is…difficult to adequately express the extent of my appreciation for all of the help you have provided to Nyota."

The Bentley House staff smiled approvingly as Spock lifted a drowsy Nyota in his arms and carried her from the Common Room. McCoy reached for one more glass of the local spirits, and then decided against it. Maybe someone would need his help tonight, and sleeping lightly wouldn't be such a bad thing.

…

"Nyota."

"Mmm? I'm sorry, I've missed our date. Sleepy."

"Tonight you shall engage only in sleep. I prefer your full participation in our other bedroom activities." Spock was undressing both of them. She managed to pull off her tunic, shirt, and bra. Her eyelids lowered as soon as she lay down.

"Mmm. Tomorrow?"

"Perhaps." His warmth stretched along her body, and his arm was a reassuring weight over her waist.

"I wish…too tired."

"Sleep, _k'diwa_."

…

The soft tapping at his door woke Jim from an unsettling dream of walking through a snowy field full of steaming bare patches of stone. There was little safe, snowy ground to walk upon and he had to leap across stones or struggle around their edges. Relieved, he groggily checked the security monitor, saw Maddy, and opened the door slightly.

"Where the hell were you, Mads? You said that you'd talk to me. What's going on?"

"Let me in, please."

"Can I trust you? What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, I promise. I tell you everything."

Jim allowed her in, but left the door slightly open. He pulled a regulation black Starfleet T-shirt over his boxers and sat on the end of the bed. Maddy moved to join him, but he gestured toward the chair. "No. Not until I know who you are and what's underneath that circle. Talk."

The charming, flirtatious lover was gone, replaced by a stern Federation official. Maddy looked at Jim's muscled arms and legs. They'd felt good against her skin a few hours ago. She knew that they could detain her in a firm hold before turning her over to any authority in the Federation. She took a deep breath and started talking.

…

What a long, odd day. McCoy stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stretched his long frame across the bed. Despite all of the energy he'd expended, he could feel his insomnia creeping up on him. He knew that he shouldn't reach for his flask. The idea of a hypospray was unappealing. Like so many of his _Enterprise_ patients, he craved a night of natural, restorative sleep. It was one more damned thing he couldn't get.

McCoy jerked, startled, as the door to his room opened quietly. He could have sworn he'd locked it. Maybe one of the students hadn't picked a room yet.

"This room's occupied," he said loudly.

The response was soft. "I know. I'm glad that it is."

"Oh. Can I help you with something?"

"I had hoped that I might help _you_ with something. If you like." The edge of the bed sank slightly as his visitor sat down. "Please tell me if you don't want me to stay, and I will never mention this to anyone."

"Hey, now. This could get awkward. We're going to be here a few days."

A shrug. "Yes."

"We don't know each other, really."

"That's never stopped anybody from doing this sort of thing."

"It's…been a while for me."

"That's a shame, Doctor. You take good care of others. Who takes care of you?" Two nicely shaped hands gently kneaded his calf. "Perhaps a therapeutic massage, to begin with?"


	8. Stone Cold

Snow Leave

Chapter 8: I Confess

Rating: PG this chapter.

Warnings: Fluff. References to sexuality.

Disclaimer:I do not own the characters or anything related to Star Trek and do not derive any profit.

...

"I did not want to tell you, 'cause you would think we super-, super-, superstitious," Maddy faltered. "Is the right word?"

Jim nodded. "Yes."

"The stone, it make you pursue something you desire. Everything you was shy about before - when you come to Delta Asilo, now you be bold and try to get it. The force of the stone works on you. Take risks, speak your mind, desires and feelings get loose," Maddy explained.

"It never lasts, not forever. Maybe two weeks, two years. As soon as you leave Delta Asilo the stone force stops, you go back to normal. If you stay here four, five weeks, no more effects. If you born here, stone force don't work on you unless you right next to it. You will be normal like us, the Asilenos. But aliens, visitors like you _Enterprise_ crew; you feel the change right quick."

Jim stared at her, incredulous. "It sounds like magic. This doesn't make any logical sense. Maddy, there must be a rational scientific explanation for what you just told me."

"Naturally it sound like magic to you; it not your culture." Scowling, she ran a hand through her hair. "I told you what I know about this. I am a pilot, not a scientist. Many things in our galaxy do not make sense. We been on this planetoid one hundred thirty Standard years and people say that the stone always been there. We don't tell outsiders about it because they all have same attitude as you."

"It has to be artificial. The melted snow, the perfectly circular shape."

"I don't know if it is natural or made by people. I just stay away from there, not my problem."

"Nobody warned us. I can understand that the Federation might have incomplete information, but not one of the local residents said a word about this."

"Jim, we meant no harm!" Maddy protested. "Understand, not every humanoid react same way to the stone; many people are immune. Some grumpy people come here, stay three months, and they just as mean when they leave. Maybe nobody thought you stay more than two Standard days here and you get only minimal effect, so they told you nothing." She clasped his hand, her expression earnest. "Blizzard changed everything. You get stuck indoors, you relax, sit by the fire, begin thinking about comfortable things, sexy things, dreamy things. When you get _too _relax, then the stone affect you, make you behave different. Get loose, get open. Very simple."

Jim stood and began pacing across the room. "I won't have my crew exposed to mysterious, potentially hazardous environmental forces. The only reason we're still here is because of unstable atmospheric conditions. If the information about this 'stone force' stuff is kept secret, that means no long-term studies have been done. Do the Asilenos really know what happens to offworlders? What if people leave here and get sick?"

"Never in all these years do we ever hear about someone being sick after they leave on a ship."

"Doesn't mean it can't happen. You can't be one hundred percent sure."

"Pssh! Vulcan-like talk, percentages."

Despite the tension of the situation, Jim suppressed a smile, and then became serious. "Maddy, you understand my responsibility here. As Captain I lead and protect my crew. I need to know if they're likely to be injured or die."

"No danger, I tell you. The Lieutenant, no stone effect on her, I think. She is sick, so all her energy go to getting well. She seem normal to me. Her Vulcan don't feel it yet, but if he start thinking about something besides logic, soon he change too, you watch. All of you, maybe. Jones, Kim, Miranda, Doctor, tall singing man –"

"Riley."

"Yes, Riley. All a'dem behave a little different."

"You could have warned me about the stone while we were out last night, Maddy," Jim admonished her.

"I thought it had no effect on you. You behave the same with me and your crew yesterday as when you beamed down. I was wrong, should have been more careful. Please forgive me."

"Did the stone affect _you_ last night?"

The frown left her face and she laughed. "No. That was the real me, off the clock. Always been wild. My parents both _very_ happy when I left their house."

"You're telling me everything right? No more secrets?"

"I promise on my ancestors' honor. Maybe I don't speak Standard so good, but I told you all I know about this as clear as I can tell it."

Jim looked at her carefully. She seemed to be telling the truth. Her body language, though dejected, suggested nothing more than openness and honesty.

"One more thing. How bad does this...intoxication, or effect become?"

"Everybody different. Some probably already as wild as they gonna get. Others just about to bust loose. So you either get back to _Enterprise_ soon or be ready for some big time foolishness."

"Damn." Jim wondered how this was going to go over with the Federation. Tomorrow he would meet with Spock and Bones and establish a new plan of action. He would write his Captain's log carefully to protect his crew's reputation. Until then, there was not much more he could do.

He slid his hand over Maddy's as she gripped the door handle. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Jim Kirk, I told you everything. I said sorry. We finished here."

"Did you find a bed for yourself?"

"Students maybe got 'em all. If I don't find one, sleep on couch in Common Room."

Jim pressed himself against her back. "Warmer in here, Maddy." He slipped his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to her neck.

She hesitated. "Are you not angry with me?"

"You answered my questions. I think that we've dealt with our problems for now." Jim's hands rose, caressed enticingly. "If you're feeling guilty, I could always tie you to the bed and we could work things out. Would you like me to do that for you?"

"I go the other way," she purred. "I like to tie down a man."

Jim turned her to face him. "I can go that way too, Navigator. Maybe we can take turns. Me, then you next, if you trust me. Please?"

...

Leonard McCoy awoke from his restorative slumber. He heard sounds of clothing being put on and fastened.

"Leaving so soon?" His voice was soft with sleep.

"Shh, sleep. Better for us both if no one sees."

"Wait." Len sat up, reached out for a last caress and a gentle kiss. "You are wonderful. I hope you won't take it the wrong way when I say thank you."

"No, I don't mind. I enjoyed it. You look so relaxed. Sometimes it helps to heal the healer, eh?"

"Last night was better than any medicine I could have prescribed. Say, if it keeps snowing for few more days and we can't leave Delta Asilo, I don't suppose you'd mind meeting like this again…?" Len asked hopefully.

"Let's leave things open, see what happens."

"Well. Yes. My bed – and my arms—are open to you."

"Thank _you_. I'd better go now." The door closed softly.

…

Nyota dreamed of light and heavy things. Some part of Spock's skin touched hers all night long, and the images in her mind drifted telepathically to his own half-sleeping mind. His_ a'duna_ dreamed of thunderclouds hovering above the plains near her family's home, long cloaks worn by the elite who had snubbed her on New Vulcan, white clouds over Bentley House bulging with unshed snowflakes.

Nyota stirred beneath his arm; he realized that it lay upon her chest and raised it, then moved their bodies so that she could breathe more easily. Her long eyelashes stroked against his shoulder as she awoke. The subtle touch aroused him. He wished almost impatiently that she were fully recovered so that he could pull the blankets away and please her with his body. He scolded himself for his lack of emotional control, feeling selfish and slightly guilty. She had not invited this illness. Under other circumstances she would have made the best of the unusual environment and the gift of time together.

At various points during the night and early morning, Spock's sharp hearing had picked up muffled _thump, thump, thump_ sounds occurring at various distances for periods of several minutes each time. By his analysis, it was likely that the sounds were produced by the headboards of beds striking walls in the rooms of Dr. McCoy, Captain Kirk, and Yeoman Kim. The noises had not continued all night, so Spock felt no need to request quiet. Stealthy footsteps moved up and down the hall, but the context of these activities made it 99.8% likely that there was no risk of violence, except for 'broken hearts', to use the human term. Spock hoped that those hearts would not create distress among his crew. Despite all that he had learned from personal experience of loving Nyota, personnel matters involving romantic entanglements continued to perplex and occasionally astonish him.

Soft, cool skin moved against his.

"Spock."

He kissed her forehead. "Are you well?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I would prefer that you were fully recovered. Our team is experiencing a sort of unscheduled shore leave, and it would be agreeable if you were able to participate more fully. I am concerned with your well-being; however, my concern involves no small amount of self-interest."

"In other words, 'when you're happy, I'm happy', or vice versa?"

"That is one way of regarding the situation."

"I feel better already. If we're still here when I recover, I want us to take off duty time. Three hours. I will lock you in this room with me if I have to."

"Ah, Nyota…that is the very problem here. You present many temptations to me. We are in a relatively safe location with comfortable amenities. We have a bed and hours of unscheduled time, but your physical weakness means that we cannot experience the level of physical intimacy we both desire. It is almost like our dilemma on the _Enterprise_," he sighed.

"Sweetheart, don't get upset." Her fingers stroked his temples.

"I am not upset. I have assessed our situation. If I were an irrational, superstitious being, I would say that 'something' is getting in the way of my relationship with my wife. I resent these unknown factors exceedingly."

"Honey, easy now. It will all be better soon. Snuggle with me." Spock's shoulders relaxed as they curled up together, watching the falling snow through the window at the foot of the bed.

…

Nyota awoke alone. A blinking light on her padd led her to read a message from Spock; he was downstairs and urged her to stay in bed, the last thing she wanted to do. Showered and dressed, she found McCoy alone in the huge kitchen, tending two steaming pots of something. A dish of pickled fish and the makings of some sort of meat sandwiches were spread across a large table. McCoy was singing some old song about a 'Saturday Night Fish Fry'.

"Good morning, beautiful! You missed breakfast, but there are plenty of leftovers." he called out, smiling.

Nyota blinked in surprise at his cheerful demeanor. "Good morning to you, a very good morning indeed. Looks like you're doing well." She prepared a mug of tea and a thick slice of bread covered with a soft, spreadable nut butter.

McCoy chuckled. "If I were any better, I'd be twins!" He began to whistle after the illogical remark.

"Um…did something special happen?"

"A good night of relaxation does wonders for a man's soul."

Unsure how to respond, she changed the subject. "What are you making, Len?"

"Hangover cure, a special soup, along with fish and sandwiches. As you saw last night, some of the students overindulged. I've sent 'em outside to shovel the new snow off the front walkway, to clear their heads." Nyota gasped, and McCoy shrugged. "A little suffering builds character. Spock's out there helping them."

"What?" Nyota's mouth fell open.

McCoy chuckled and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Funny, ain't it? I oughta take a picture just to prove it can happen. Spock said something about how he, as a Vulcan, had no previous experience shoveling snow. So out he went."

"I have to see this. Excuse me, Len." Nyota carried her mug of tea to the guesthouse lobby. Spock and the students were visible through the long front windows.

All were indeed shoveling the walk clear of the new snowfall. Some of the students looked the worse for wear, moving slowly. Spock had already cleared a broad swath of the front walk and created a small mountain of snow. He paused to listen to something one of the students said, turning back toward the guesthouse windows. He saw Nyota standing in the long window. Even at a distance, she could see one eyebrow quirk up, and she sensed amusement across their bond. The sensation shifted to teasing flirtation, then lust. She took a few steps back.

Nyota took a deep breath. _Something's up_. She had to talk to Jim. She'd try to reach Scotty and Chekov too. Maybe the Ambassador's engineering staff would help. She rested a hand against her communicator, reassured by its presence, and went in search of Jim.

...

Apprehensive, Jim held his breath, but the communicator signal went through clearly. "Kirk here. Sulu, please switch to private comm."

The helmsman's deep voice sounded alert, professional, with a touch of concern. "Captain, is everything all right? It's been several hours since you last got through."

"Strange things are happening here. Please review my most recent private message to you and the other bridge crew. Off the record, I need a favor, please."

"Sure, Jim. What can I do for you?"

"You're still active with those professional organizations for navigators and pilots, right?"

"Yeah, I belong to six different ones. Federation, intergalactic, Earth based, you name it, and I've got it covered."

"Could you do a little detective work on a local pilot?" He told Sulu Maddy's full name and some of the certification details he'd noticed posted with her pilot ID in the cockpit of the _Henson_. "Her background, experience, and especially any political or business connections. Thanks."

Curiosity piqued, Sulu grinned. "Pilots gossip just as much as anyone else, Jim. You never know what you may find. You'll hear from Scotty soon. He and Chekov have been relentless, monitoring conditions to try and get you back."

"I appreciate everything all of you have done. Kirk out."

Kirk sighed._ Either get back to __Enterprise__ soon or be ready for some big time foolishness._

He nearly collided with Nyota in the conference room doorway.

"Lieutenant, I'm glad to see you. Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." She looked up at him, worried. "Are _you_ all right after all that time out in the snow last night?"

"I am, and I know why you're asking. Please call in the rest of the _Enterprise_ away team. We need to talk. Now."


	9. Cold Feet

Snow Leave

Chapter 9: Cold Feet

Warnings: fluff, pseudoscience

Many references to _TOS_ elements and the episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon.

Nawlins=New Orleans, but you knew that already.

…

Ensign Jones entered the large guesthouse kitchen and approached the stove. "I'm back, Dr. McCoy! I finished uploading historical meteorological and atmospheric data for Ensign Chekov. How's my Yaka Mein soup coming?"

"Looks ready and smells good. Thank you for suggesting this and getting it started. Time t'eat, y'all!" McCoy said loudly, causing one of the medical students to whimper and clasp his throbbing head with both hands.

Ensign Jones prepared bowls of soup: long, thin noodles first, followed by shredded meat or meat substitute, broth, a halved boiled egg, and chopped green onions on top. She distributed the bowls to the grateful students, who had finished their enforced snow shoveling and were now submitting themselves to the next round of character-building hangover treatment prescribed by Dr. McCoy.

Jones kept her voice low and soothing. "It's a nice old-fashioned hangover cure from Earth, Nawlins cultural origin, an old family recipe. People also call it 'Old Sober'."

"That's Southern, isn't it? Something that you and Dr. McCoy would have grown up with?" a student asked weakly, attempting polite conversation.

"Not quite my neck of the woods," McCoy replied. "I'm a Mississippi boy. But that looks delicious. I'll try _anything_ once."

Entirely satisfied with life at the moment, McCoy devoured his bowl of soup with gusto.

…

"Sulu here. Captain, I've got that profile you requested." Jim opened the encrypted file over a secure connection. The data file opened on a second monitor, showing a large headshot of Maddy next to fields of text and smaller images. Her flight suit was unzipped low enough to show cleavage, her dual-colored eyes held a challenging expression, and the lipstick on her pouting lips was blood red.

"So that's your pilot, Kirk. Just how well acquainted _are_ you two?" On the other monitor, Jim saw that Sulu's expression was misleadingly innocent.

"The usual rules of professionalism during duty hours apply," Jim responded. "After hours, no comment." She'd saved him from driving himself off a ridge; he owed her something, even if he was doing an informal background check.

Sulu looked unconvinced, but continued. "I spoke to navigators and pilots from two professional associations, guys I've known for years. Your woman's a badass, Jim. People say that she can fly anything from a freighter to a type of stealth spacecraft used by pirates. She's got two martial arts certifications. Clean flying record, awards for good job performance. Flying academy classroom grades were so-so, but she had nearly perfect scores on all of her field tests. Before she got her current job, she paid her bills by doing some stunt flying – upside down, gravity drops, things you usually see in air shows."

"Was she in any financial trouble?"

"Maybe. There are many transport, navigation, and flying jobs on a trade depot colony planetoid like Delta Asilo, but the pay is low. Most local pilots work for several companies simultaneously. One of the guys I spoke with is her ex-boyfriend; he said she's smart, fearless, into self-preservation. She told him that she was disowned by her family after she turned eighteen, so she may have few financial resources to fall back on."

"She hinted at the family stuff, but I don't know much else about her." Jim had kept their conversations light, in and out of bed.

"Her family never forgave her for being locked up in juvenile detention at age fifteen. The charge was 'borrowing' a regional transport aircraft without permission. She taught herself how to fly it by using flight simulator games and reading a manual. No word about how she learned how to pick locks to get onto the airfield. I _did_ say she was a badass, right?"

"This doesn't surprise me. She taught me to drive a type of powersled last night. She handled it better than anybody I've ever seen."

"Really? Cool. Oh, she's not a career criminal, by the way. After she was released from detention, a prominent Asileno pilot, a woman who known as a do-gooder, mentored her and helped her apply to flight school. Maddy's worked steadily ever since, paid her own way through flight school. Pilots in her situation burn out. They may get some off-planet contract jobs on a seasonal basis but it usually doesn't pay enough for them to establish themselves elsewhere. Often, affording a family is out of the question. Some of the pilots and navigators I know fight constantly with their partners about money."

"She hasn't mentioned money."

"Would you, if you were in her situation? People do have their pride."

Jim realized that his knowledge of Maddy was primarily carnal. "No, I probably wouldn't."

"No political or business connections, although she dated a few highly ranked crew members from Federation ships. Her ex says she's private, doesn't share much about herself. He was looking for a wife. She talked mostly about spacecraft and vehicles and flying to other planets. He also said that she has a chip on her shoulder about people thinking she's their social inferior, acting as though she isn't good enough for them. Their affair didn't last long."

"Hmm. Sulu, thank you very, very much. This is all useful."

Sulu's handsome face grew serious. "Jim, off the record?"

"Go ahead, Hikaru."

"I'd watch my back if I were you. Starfleet training doesn't prepare you for unknown quantities like this Maddy person."

"Understood."

"I'm going to switch you over to Scotty now. He says that he's got a hunch that the patterns of the ion storms will shift in a way that makes transwarp beaming possible within the next forty-eight Standard hours."

…

Nyota had forgotten how easily Spock could pick her up with one arm.

"Spock, not where everyone can see!" Her long braid flopped forward as he turned her over his shoulder. Quickly, she calculated the possibility of _ponn farr_. No – it was still a couple of years away. Unless there was some mysterious substance in the snow, there was no simple explanation for Spock's amorous public behavior. Perhaps he was just being himself; his libido matched hers. _Lucky me. But the way he's doing this simply won't do._

Spock moved into one of the hallway alcoves and set her down on her feet, pressing her along his body. He was getting hard. In public. Nyota closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. _We've got to return to the Enterprise before things go beyond all control_.

Spock caught her thought. "Is control always necessary?" he asked calmly.

"Listen to yourself! We're on a Federation mission, and things are going completely…"

Overwhelmed, she spoke random colloquial phrases: one of McCoy's words, then the slang of her Nigerian, Caribbean, and African American friends from Starfleet.

"…haywire. This is a big _wahala_, we've gotten crawled into trouble, and it's a big old mess up in here!" She looked up at Spock. "Our ability to carry out this mission, simple as it is, has been compromised. Some of our away team are behaving like hormonally charged teenagers."

Spock shrugged. "They could do worse things."

Their communicators beeped simultaneously. "Mandatory crisis meeting of all _Enterprise _crew, immediately. Conference room. Kirk out."

...

With the crew gathered behind closed doors, Jim repeated Maddy's explanation of the phenomena linked to the stone. McCoy and Spock, who had heard the first part of the story the night before, still appeared to be skeptical. Jones, Miranda, Kim, and Riley stared at their Captain with mixed expressions of disbelief and embarrassment.

"I know that this sounds impossible, but that's all the information I have now. It may all be local superstition, but I think we all agree that some uncharacteristic behavior took place around yesterday." Crew members looked at the stone floor, at the elaborately woven carpet, anywhere but at their Captain.

"I asked the Manager of Bentley House the same questions this morning. She was embarrassed, but her explanation matches the one Maddy gave."

"My review of tourism materials indicated that this planetoid has a long history as a popular recreational destination," Spock said. "Perhaps some humanoids come to Delta Asilo to intentionally experience the loss of inhibition."

"The idea of people being at the mercy of personal desires is frightening," said Miranda.

"If someone's got violent thoughts, we'll find ways to redirect the behavior, or confine them if needed," suggested Nyota.

"The locals won't be affected; all eyes will be on us, so we need to represent the Federation properly and keep any desire-seeking out of sight, out of mind. Scotty and Chekov are monitoring atmospheric conditions; we might be out of here within the next forty-eight hours," Jim said. "Stay close to Bentley House and the Ambassador's Mansion. I won't be giving in to my own wish for adventure – no powersleds for me tonight."

"I wonder what the rest of us want," mused Riley. "I could do with a bit more singing, but that's true for every shore leave."

"The Ambassador for the Federation will meet with us tonight, at my request. I'm hoping that he can provide some officially sanctioned answer for this whole stone myth. Thank you, crew; let's try to stay out of trouble today. Dismissed."

The _Enterprise_ crew members began to disperse, feeling perturbed. Kim hoped that his bedtime romp had gone unnoticed. Jones wondered if her daydreams about settling down after her Starfleet life to raise a happy family expressed themselves through her decision to rise early and cook hangover soup. Miranda wanted to go to the guesthouse gym and burn off some energy by running around its small indoor track. She'd almost hoped that the previous night's power failure would give her a chance to shoot something, maybe a snow creature, and heroically rescue everyone; as Uhura said, it made more sense to redirect that energy. Riley glanced out the windows and noticed snow falling again as he walked into the guesthouse lobby. He'd get to sing again tonight; he had a captive audience.

"Where are you headed, Miss Uhura?"

"I'm going to take a short walk, Doctor. Some fresh air may clear my thoughts."

McCoy rested a hand on Nyota's shoulder. "Lieutenant, I'm not pronouncing you cured until you make sure that you get something t'eat. Jones made meat and vegetarian soup this morning."

"Thanks, Len, that's sweet of you. I'll get something right now. Commander?"

Spock's expression was calm and free of emotion. "I appreciate your consideration, Lieutenant. I will eat after I speak with the Captain."

_From hot to cold_, Nyota thought, but she only nodded and left for the kitchen.

The men waited until the door closed behind Nyota, then turned to face Jim.

"Captain, perhaps you can explain this contradictory situation. You were exposed to potentially dangerous conditions involving the stone while involved in recreational activities with Navigator Maddy. Today, you asked Sulu to do a background check on this woman. However, you continue to be physically involved with her." Spock waited for Jim's answer, eyebrow raised.

Jim blushed. "I felt like I couldn't keep my hands off her."

"Could be there's something to this stone nonsense after all," drawled McCoy. "Or maybe you're just an old horny toad."

"Come on, Bones, she's probably harmless. Maddy has no access to any confidential Federation information. She has no criminal record as an adult. She was completely honest about the stone. She seems to be a good sort. I was in trouble a lot as a kid, and I turned out okay."

"Jim, the lights are on, but nobody's home!" McCoy threw his hands in the air. "You need to think about your role here. Be nice to her; treat her like a lady, but you might could give her a little space."

"I'll work things out, Bones. I try to leave my lovers on good terms. Speaking of which, how are _you_ doing? You seem to be in an awfully good mood today. Anyone here catch your eye?"

"Pshaw, Jim. Can't I just be in a good mood?"

"I'm sure that's possible, but it's a natural wonder I've only witnessed on a few occasions."

McCoy laughed. "Let's just say I'm feeling right with the world. Come on, guys, let's get some lunch."

…

Spock sparred with Jim. Both men were shirtless. The flat white light from the skylight in the gym gave a sculpted look to the men's well formed biceps, and flat stomachs. It was difficult to look away. After a quick lunch during which she played footsie with Spock under the table, she had come to the gym to stretch and warm herself up before she took a walk around the perimeter of the guesthouse. She'd finished stretching, but was reluctant to leave.

Nyota had never denied Jim's physical allure. Like so many others, she found it no hardship to gaze upon his kissable mouth, broad chest, solid thighs, and the famous Kirk smile that turned "no" into "yes, _please_". However, she was honest with herself; her appreciation of Jim's aesthetic appeal was a flickering candle flame compared to the raging blaze of her physical, emotional, and intellectual desire for Spock. Her initial realization that her desire was returned – and that Spock felt far more than just desire for her - had made her question everything about herself. She happily surrendered to whatever life with Spock offered.

Nyota's heart was not prone to wander, and she fought her growing arousal as she watched Spock and Jim in their combat. Both of their chests were lightly furred with hair. Her eyes followed the tempting trails down to the waistbands of their black Starfleet issue gym trousers. Although she didn't think a hairy chest was required to make a man attractive, being with Spock had taught her to enjoy following the trail to its destination.

Jim's movements were solid, forceful. Spock dodged his kicks and blows with apparent ease. When his punches connected with Jim's body, they carried enough solid force to make the Captain stagger. Jim laughed, enjoying the feeling of competition, and intensified his attack. An alert Spock matched every strike with a block or feint, muscles flexing.

A flush of heat spread over Nyota's skin. She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead and neck as though to cool herself down. She ought to leave the room before her facial expression revealed her yearning.

Miranda ran around the indoor track some distance away, listening to something through earphones. A few of the medical students stretched on the mats. Navigator Maddy leaned on the handlebars of a stationary bike some distance away, a dreamy expression on her face as she watched the combatants. Jealousy pained Nyota momentarily before she noticed how the woman's two-colored gaze flicked up and down Jim Kirk's body.

_Oh, not again. This happens on every single away mission_. Nyota hoped that Jim wouldn't break Maddy's heart. She'd barely spoken with the voluptuous pilot, but she'd seemed good-natured enough. She surely deserved more than forty-eight hours of sweet talk and vague promises to meet up during some future shore leave.

Gaila had once said while in a wounded mood, "Jim Kirk's so good in bed that he could start charging for it if he ever gets his thoughtless ass kicked out of Starfleet." Nyota, aware of Gaila's personal history as a vulnerable Orion female involuntarily involved in sex work, found the remark distressing. She had nervously turned the conversation towards a discussion of the many people who admired Gaila's intelligence and kindness, trying to make her friend feel better.

Spock's face was deceptively expressionless; he went easy on Jim Kirk, using the session to practice defensive and evasive moves instead of seizing every opportunity to strike. As soon as Nyota understood what Spock was doing, he changed his strategy, sending out a fusillade of quick, short blows and forcing Jim to call upon his knowledge of blocks and defensive moves. Finally Spock hooked a foot behind Jim's heel, pulling him off his feet and flat on his back. Jim rolled to his side and rose to his feet, keeping his head low, then tackled Spock and bringing him down to the mat. Nyota held her breath as both men leapt to their feet in an almost dancelike movement. Jim struck, Spock blocked with his forearm, moved aside, hurled a punch at Jim's midsection. It barely connected as Jim turned aside at the last possible second.

"Captain, you have improved."

"I have to beat you at something, don't I? I call time for a break," Jim panted.

As the men paused to catch their breath, the medical students applauded and made a few joking, friendly remarks. Jim laughed and joked back before turning to wink broadly at Maddy.

Nyota saw the woman approach Kirk, a sultry half-smile on her face. _I need to stay out of this. She's an adult. I suppose she knows what she's doing. Maybe someday we'll have a mission on a planet where Jim doesn't unleash his charms on the locals and nobody wants to sleep with him, but I wouldn't bet money on it._

Spock humored the students, seeming to converse with them easily and answering a few questions about Starfleet martial arts training. Nyota turned to leave. Ogling her bondmate as though they were newlyweds was illogical. She really needed to get back to the translation project waiting for her on her padd. Jones and Miranda were monitoring communications with Scotty and she wanted to know if the engineer had any news. Everyone was engaged in productive activity except herself.

"Lieutenant Uhura?" Spock was pronouncing her name _that_ way again.

Perhaps no one else noticed the difference, but her ears – and other parts of her body – recognized the sensual, languorous tone of voice and the slight roll he gave to the _r_ in her name. It was the same pronunciation that Spock used during seemingly innocent calls to her when they worked separate schedules and things got slow enough on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ for him allow his mind to wander. Aware of the crew around him, he quietly asked her meaningless questions loaded with double entendres.

_ Lieutenant Uhura, perhaps you can answer my question regarding sentence structure in the Ersatzian language. Might it be possible to repeatedly insert an imperative phrase within a soft form of a particular structure, with the climactic result of a positive expression?_

Nyota replied in colloquial Vulcan. _If anyone except for you tried this nonsense with me, I'd have them written up. I ought to spank you._

_The implications of the latter sentence are intriguing, and merit closer examination. Unfortunately, the immediate application of such a method is not practical. However, I am interested in researching it – in depth– in the near future._

_Commander, I may be able to provide at least a partial solution to this problem during the hour and forty-five minutes between your shift end and my shift start. Agreed?_

_Agreed. Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura. Spock out._

Maddy paused in her conversation with Jim Kirk long enough to glance over at the interaction between the Vulcan First Officer and Nyota. Jim was telling Maddy and the students about some brave thing he'd done on a mission, illustrating his tale of adventure with gestures. Maddy nodded in Jim's direction as though listening intently. Then she looked at Spock, back at Nyota, and gave her a broad, conspiratorial 'between us women' wink. Nyota didn't want to appear unfriendly, and she responded with a small smile and a wink of her own.

Observing the exchange, Spock lifted both eyebrows and stared at Nyota. His body held an almost predatory tension, ready to go from fighting to prowling, and she was his prey.

Nyota gave Spock a wide-eyed look, grabbed her heavy jacket and boots, and fled towards the hallway. Hopping first on one leg, then the other, she pulled on the boots. She sealed up the jacket as she exited a side door.

The snow crunched underfoot; she took a deep breath of cold, clean-feeling air. She wasn't upset with Spock. All she wanted was a few minutes outdoors.

Nyota walked along the back of the sprawling guesthouse structure, ascending a small ridge. Her muscles protested the past day and a half of reduced activity, but it felt good to move again. She opened the bond with Spock, sending a reassuring thought. _Nothing personal, love; I needed a change of scene. We've got the rest of the day to be together._ His response, though wordless, was comforting; he shared a feeling of mild amusement and affection, then his anticipation of pleasure.

An awareness of something different made Nyota stop in her tracks. She turned around and saw a tall figure, arms akimbo, standing atop a small hill. She'd been alone a few seconds ago.

"Nyota Uhura, you haven't changed a bit. Still weak and skinny under that Starfleet uniform. What do you want to bet I can still whip you in a fight?"

* * *

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	10. Freeze

**Snow Leave**

**Chapter 10: Freeze**

**Warnings**: OOC behavior; allusions to sexuality; illusions/delusions

References the _TOS _episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon. Disclaimer: I don't own any _Star trek_ intellectual property, nor do I profit from it.

* * *

"Heart-trouble." Nyota looked up at the tall, lean figure and spoke the old schoolyard nickname for the bully without thinking. "Why are _you_ here?"

"What's it to you? Snobby Uhura isn't the only one who goes places in this life."

"Grow up. Your life has nothing to do with mine. We haven't even lived in the same country or even on the same planet for ages –"

"Yeah, brag!"

"Just stating facts." Nyota saw that Heart-trouble was dressed in fashionable, expensive-looking clothing, boots, and makeup unsuitable for either the snowy climate or the casual social culture of Delta Asilo. "Are you real?" She asked abruptly.

"Is _this_?" yelled Heart-trouble, suddenly rushing down the slope, her arms outstretched. Surprised, Nyota stumbled backwards. Her combat training asserted itself and she turned aside so that only one of Heart-trouble's hands hit her shoulder. She felt the hand strike. The momentum gained from the run down the slope would have been forceful enough to knock her down if she hadn't moved. Her thoughts raced as she moved out of range. Kirk told them that the stone influenced behavior; apparently visual and physical perceptions were altered too.

How did you fight a hallucination?

…

Yeoman Carmelita Miranda gripped her phaser as the enormous snow beast rose up on its hind legs, roaring. Blobs of ice and snow fell from its musty-smelling fur. Excited, she grinned and took aim. She'd save everyone at Bentley House and be declared a hero. She couldn't wait to tell her ex-girlfriend about this; perhaps they'd begin to see each other again. Maybe she'd change her plans for tonight, see if she could open a comm channel and talk to her, or write her a long, heartfelt letter.

"Take that, courtesy of Starfleet!" she shouted, and fired.

…

Ensign Era Bell Jones, known to her friends and some crew mates as Jonesy, knew that the images before her were desire-fueled illusions, but they made her feel playful. She helped a group of adorable children, some of whom strongly resembled herself, to build a snow fort. One of the medical students was nearby, keeping an eye on her until the mysterious stone's effect ran its course; he found her a sled and they made a few runs down a hillside. Jonesy described what she saw and felt. The student explained that he couldn't see the children, but the sledding was real and he hoped that she was enjoying herself. Their conversation deepened. They liked many similar things. The images of the children faded away as Jonesy and the medical student smiled at each other. By the time they returned the sled to Bentley House, he'd asked if he could call her Jonesy, or even Era Bell. They put on snowshoes and went for a short trek to get better acquainted. Miss Jones decided that her plans for that evening might change.

…

Nyota had always been a fighter, if not with her hands, then with her mind. Her memories of a lengthy childhood illness - one of several- had faded somewhat, but a few impressions remained. She remembered her parents' loving, worried faces. She also remembered the night when she summoned all of her mental and spiritual strength and will, pushing back at something she could not see as it pressed against her chest. Calmly, insistently, she'd thought, _I don't want to leave now, there are people to love and things to do_. Slowly, over the course of the night, the pressure on her chest eased and her skin cooled. _Not time yet._

At sunrise, her parents found her idly tying little knots in the fringe trim of the bedspread; Nyota smiled and asked for a glass of juice, remembering to say 'please'. The tears shed by her mother and father had bewildered her until her Auntie 'Chelle explained that it was relief and happiness that made the adults around her cry.

There were other fights, like a few typical childhood scuffles with cousins. Then unpredictable punches and shoves from Heart-trouble on the playground, between ages nine and fourteen, until Nyota changed schools. Auntie 'Chelle, hinting at painful situations she'd encountered during her own twenties, insisted upon enrolling Nyota and her female cousins first in self-defense courses for children and later in courses designed for teenage girls. During Starfleet combat training Nyota learned combat skills, how to escape, defend, block, or if necessary, to kill. She understood just how aggressive any being could be when feeling threatened.

Starfleet combat training came in handy under the strangest circumstances. Heart-trouble threw punches and kicks toward Nyota as though she meant to split her lip, break her bones and her spirit. Nyota blocked or avoided the blows, following a combination of instinct and training. Her heart pounded steadily and confidently in her chest; she didn't feel even a little bit sick now. Instead she was alert, strong, her mind clear. While she moved, she analyzed her situation. There must be a way to disable whatever it was that manipulated mind and matter on this planetoid. Something logical.

"Listen, Heart-trouble – Hortense!" Appealing to the other woman's good nature – if she even had any – Nyota remembered her real name and used it as she danced backwards, putting some space between herself and a punch aimed at her face. "I always wondered something. You were skinny too. Why'd you make fun of me?"

Heart-trouble scooped up two handfuls of snow, ran towards Nyota, and threw the snow towards Nyota's face, but Nyota ducked down and ran behind the other woman's back. She kept talking.

"You were smart, as I remember. Good at lots of things." She dodged a high-heeled boot as the other woman aimed a kick. "You were popular, Hortense. Kids said you were a great comedian." Most of that humor had been cruel, but Nyota persisted with her strategy. "Wasn't all that enough to make you happy? Why were you always so angry at school?"

"Shut up!" This time, the blow aimed at Nyota connected, making her stagger backward.

Nyota didn't give up. "Trouble at home? You could have asked teachers for help, talked to the counselor."

"I said shut _up_!" Heart-trouble stood glaring at her, panting for breath.

"Nobody's life is perfect, Hortense. Maybe we could have been friends, or at least left each other in peace."

"You think _you're_ perfect, with your creepy Vulcan. Had the nerve to bring him to your parents' house. Two weirdoes like you deserve one another, big ass."

"My Vulcan loves my big ass, and all the rest of me, too." The remark seemed to provoke Heart-trouble further, and she tried to grab Nyota's face and hair. Nyota blocked the grasping fingers with her forearms, ducked low, crashed into Heart-trouble's legs, and knocked her down before rolling out of the way and jumping to her feet.

…

"Uh…Yeoman Kim, please remember that boxer shorts are not appropriate attire for the hallways and public areas."

"Er, right, Captain. Sorry, won't happen again. Just on my way to another room."

Jim wanted badly to ask for details but he decided against it. They were all adults in this mess together. Kim's well-built body hadn't been nude, after all, just overexposed.

Scotty might contact him soon; give them the go-ahead for the transporter functions. He walked downstairs to check the weather and atmospheric reports for the tenth time that day.

Spock, wearing an unfastened snow jacket, startled Jim by hurrying down the broad stairway from the guest rooms. A slight crease was visible between his eyebrows.

"I cannot locate Lieutenant Uhura," he said without preamble or greeting, a sign that he was truly disconcerted.

"You can't locate her through that bond thing you do?" Jim asked cautiously.

"Negative. Approximately twenty minutes ago she indicated a wish to walk outdoors alone for the purposes of solitude and exercise. Eighteen and a half seconds ago, she restored contact." Spock looked tense. "She is engaged in some sort of physical combat. I must help."

"I'll help, let's go." Jim pulled on a heavy jacket that someone had left in the lobby area, and the men hurried outside. "Can you try again with the bond thing, and locate her?" Jim asked. "Never mind, I've got a tricorder." The tricorder's readings pointed him in the same direction that Spock was now facing. "This way – a humanoid indicated, and heat." They began to run.

"I had already determined through the bond that this is the correction direction to take," Spock said with an air of mild reproach. "Although the bond is not well understood by those without similar relationships, it cannot provide inaccurate or illogical information about bondmates."

" 'Without similar relationships' – this isn't the time, Spock. I'm worried about her too."

"I apologize. I did not intend –"

"I understand, Spock." They rounded the corner of the large building, went through a small grove of large plants bent low to the ground under a covering of snow, down one ridge, then up another.

The tricorder beeped.

…

Frustrated, Yeoman Miranda lowered her useless phaser, looking the unaffected snow beast in its six eyes.

"There's got to be _something_ this monster isn't immune to," she muttered.

"Hey, girl!" Ensign Jones was running up to her, carrying something in both hands. "Need some help?"

"Jonesy! Do you see that snow beast?"

"Sure do. I brought you this flamethrower, thought it might help."

"Oh, thank you!" Miranda had never held a flamethrower during Starfleet training, but somehow she immediately understood how to use this one.

"You're welcome, hon. Sorry, I've got to go; I promised the kids a game after they finish their math homework." Jones ran back towards the guesthouse.

_Que_? Jonesy didn't have any kids. Must be some delusion created by the stone.

The snow beast roared. Miranda whirled around, grinning, and pointed the flamethrower in its direction.

…

"Hit me back, stupid!" Heart-trouble screamed, advancing on Nyota and forcing her back up the small slope.

"No. You chose this fight, not me." Nyota moved from side to side, searching for an escape route.

"You hate me as much as I hate you."

"I don't hate you anymore. We're grown up now. Why does this still matter to you? My life has nothing to do with yours." Nyota kept moving; maybe she could escape by sliding or rolling down the other side of the hill.

"I said _fight_!"

"I won't hit you," Nyota said, "but if you want to tell me why you were always so angry with me, I will listen to you."

"You always were a smartass, Uhura. Think you know more than anyone else, think you're better than everyone else. You and your good grades and scholarships and big name family. Starfleet's made you even more arrogant." Heart-trouble moved closer, forcing Nyota to the top of the slope.

"No. I'm not any different from any other human. When I get up in the morning, I'm just another working woman. My parents work hard, so I do too. What have I done to you personally? You never spoke to me unless it was to insult me, so it's not like we knew each other well. Tell me what the real problem is. Is it something about _you_?"

"You're not like me, you're _different_ from me. You – you-" Heart-trouble hesitated for a moment, and then broke into pixels that swirled away like colorful snowflakes.

Startled, Nyota stepped backward, arms outspread, leaving herself undefended. Heart-trouble grew solid again, reforming just long enough to put both hands on Nyota's shoulders and shove. As her tormentor disappeared, Nyota felt herself fall.

…

From a little distance away, Spock and Jim saw Nyota stagger, lose her footing, and begin to roll down a small hill. Spock sprinted towards her, followed closely by Jim. When Spock attempted to break Nyota's fall, the awkward angle brought him down with her. Jim didn't move out of the way fast enough, and he fell with them.

There had been a time, once – all right, more than once - when Jim's goal was to find himself lying down with the lovely doe-eyed Uhura. Snow and an unsmiling Spock made the sudden realization of that fantasy a bit uncomfortable. Such circumstances as these were not part of his fleeting fantasies.

They all sprawled on the snow, Nyota sandwiched between Spock and Jim. It was not the most unpleasant place a woman could find herself. Spock would not share her opinion. She tried to shield her reaction so that it wouldn't be perceptible through the bond.

"Are you injured, Nyota?" Spock's arms were wrapped tightly around her middle.

"What happened?" Jim stared down into her eyes as he brushed snow from her face and hair, and then lowered his hand as he noticed Spock's stern facial expression.

"I'm okay. I, uh, got into a fight with someone who wasn't really there." Nyota wriggled, trying to stand up. Wriggling against six feet of Jim Kirk was not entirely unpleasant, even with layers of winter clothing between them. He felt reassuringly solid. Even in their awkward position she could feel how well muscled his thighs were.

Spock's arms pulled her closer to his own taller, warmer body. _Oh, damn_. One forearm moved across her breasts. Nyota quivered. _He knew_.

"Let me up, both of you. Jim, you're heavy, and Spock, you're so strong that I can't move. I'm going inside."

_You aren't going anywhere, ashayam_. A blend of amusement and arousal came clearly across the bond.

"Captain, please remove yourself from my bondmate immediately."

"Okay, okay." Jim got to his feet, extending a hand to help. Spock released Nyota but kept one hand on her as Jim pulled her up.

"What occurred during this fight? The snow shows only one set of footprints. Do you feel any sensation of delirium?" Spock asked, looking at her intently.

"No! I think I understand what just happened here. The image I saw, the 'person' I fought was an old bully from my school years. She hit me and teased me mercilessly for years. She mocked me for being too academic, and also for being unfashionable and generally unattractive. She even gossiped about me in our hometown years later when she heard that I'd been accepted by Starfleet."

"I remember your words while you were undergoing medical treatment. To quote exactly, you said 'Stop talking about my butt'," Spock said dryly.

Jim laughed. Spock looked at him. Jim blushed.

Nyota smiled. "It's all right, Kirk. Thank you both for coming to rescue me – I think it was just ending when you came. It seemed so powerful, so real! That illusion gave me a chance to avenge myself against the bully who was the worst perpetrator at school." They turned and walked back towards Bentley House. "Kirk, didn't you say that the stone causes people to fulfill their desires? I used to wish that I was strong and fast enough to fight back. I haven't thought about her in ages, but I guess that old desire was someplace in my subconscious. Spock, you'll like this – I used a bit of logic to argue with her instead of punching her back, and she disappeared. After all these years, I finally won the fight."

"Did it feel good, Lieutenant?" Spock asked, a hint of a smile on his lips. Nyota smiled back and nodded.

"It's true, then – on Delta Asilo, desires are fulfilled. Who has which desire, I wonder?" Jim mused. "Uhura had an old score to settle. I met a woman who loves aircraft and gear as much as I do, but she's real. McCoy's become Mr. Sunshine Sociable all of a sudden. Riley announced that he's giving a recital tonight – old Celtic songs and sea chanteys. Spock, I'm not even going to guess at what your desires are."

"I do not recommend that you attempt it, as the results of your guess are likely to be profoundly inaccurate."

"Probably so, Spock; I bet that you won't tell me, even if I ask. Uhura, I think you're safe now with this big Vulcan watching over you." He glanced over and saw that the couple had each removed a glove, and were pressing their fingers together, arms held at their sides in an attempt at discretion. "Maybe I'll leave you two alone?"

…

McCoy hadn't drunk anything stronger than the local coffee substitute all day, but he was feeling right fine. He spent much of the day with the students in a long, meandering discussion of medical practice and how to keep alive their desire to help others. He felt respected and admired, but he took time to ask each one about their interests and experiences. Their optimism and good humor put him at ease.

McCoy abandoned his plans to sit alone reading medical journals on his padd, and relaxed in the big warm common room talking, eating snacks, and chatting with the staff and students. People wandered in and out of the room and the conversations. They stopped to play games with Navigator Maddy and Jim, before taking up their conversations again. The loose sociability of the day reminded McCoy of extended family visits back home. He realized how much he'd missed an atmosphere such as this. Sometimes _Enterprise_ parties created a similar feeling, especially when planned by crew members who made an effort to have lots of 'comfort food' on hand. It would be nice to be the one who threw the party, to be the warmly smiling host, the one who encouraged others to pull up a chair and stay a while and had his invitations gladly accepted.

Why not? He'd organize a social evening tonight, some diversion for those who were not too badly affected by the stone. He'd already charmed the staff into giving him free reign of the kitchen. The young'uns could set up the gaming units. Riley was already preparing himself – Bones could hear him rehearsing in a distant room. The party had very nearly organized itself already. The friendly atmosphere might put his midnight visitor in an equally friendly mood. Hours or days might pass before Scotty contacted them with news about beaming up. Leonard McCoy would make the very best of his temporarily gregarious state of mind.

…

"Maddy, put down that game controller for a second. I want to ask you something."

"Again with the questions, Jim Kirk? What have I done this time?"

"Nothing. I should let you know something." He kept his voice low. "I had a little background check run on you."

Maddy bit her lip and looked away. "I made some mistakes, yes."

"I think that you've made restitution for them, at least for that incident when you were fifteen. I caused a few problems myself when I was a teenager. If there's hope for me, someone with your flying skill and steady employment record can't do too badly."

"You could have asked me. "

"Would you have told me everything?"

"Yes. Ashamed to do it, but yes. I got no secrets left now, Jim Kirk."

"Do you want to find a job away from this planetoid?"

Maddy's lip trembled. "You got no idea how _much_ I want away from this place."

"I can't promise you anything, but I contacted a few colleagues and told them about you. It's dull work – flying freighters and transports – but steady, along safe trade routes, and the pay fits your experience. It's linked to the Federation, so your life isn't really private. But you could live very comfortably someday. You just need to get to a computer and tell them you're interested. "

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why you do this? Feel sorry for me? I been with other captains, you know. They buy for me nice dinner, hotel room, clothes, temporary stuff. Job is different, is for my life. You think you better than me, help out poor little Maddy? Why do this for me?"

"I want to do it because you're a damned good pilot. You understand how to maneuver machines and make your passengers feel safe under difficult conditions. You're a perfectionist who thinks and moves on her feet. If I had enough pull within the Federation I'd ask them to take you into Starfleet. You're probably _better_ than many trained helmsmen at the Academy. Even if you had turned me down when I made a move on you, I'd still recommend you for a job. I don't feel a bit sorry for you, Maddy. I do admire you."

"Oh. " Surprised, she stared back at him in silence for a moment. "Th-thank you. Nobody I sleep with ever talk to me like you do."

"Maybe you sleep with the wrong people. Maybe we should stop sleeping with each other for a while and talk instead." He shrugged, smiled. "So…shoveling snow wasn't just a chore for me at home, it was kind of a punishment. How about you?"

…

Nyota and Spock stood in a warm embrace near the guesthouse; a few snowflakes swirled down.

"We could wait until you're not affected by this stone anymore." Nyota smiled up at Spock.

His dark eyes were full of playful, sensual promise. "As I am or not at all."

"Fine, let's go upstairs."

"I propose something less predictable, if it is agreeable to you. When you left the gym earlier today, I was ready for a chase. I offer that to you now. Does the idea please you?" Spock felt her fascinated surprise through the bond; she pressed closer to him. He lowered his voice to a deep, seductive rumble. "Will you consent? "

"Indoors or outdoors?" she asked, almost shyly.

"Both. That is, if you are able to evade me in a sufficiently clever fashion."

"You can run faster than me."

"I will adjust my pace to prolong the delightful agony of being unable to catch you and possess you."

Nyota felt a delicious shiver of anticipation all down her back. "Give me a head start," she breathed.

"Agreed. You have three minutes." Grasping her shoulder, Spock leaned down for a hard, quick, kiss. He turned her around and swatted her on the behind. "Go."

* * *

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	11. Tracks

**Snow Leave**

**Chapter 11: Tracks**

Warnings: fluff, Emo!Spock, sexuality

References the _TOS _episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from any fanfiction involving them.

* * *

Snow crunched below Nyota's running feet; she blinked as falling snowflakes landed in her eyelashes. A few small sheds and tall, treelike plants stood nearby. The hours she'd spent indoors had limited her knowledge of the sprawling grounds of Bentley House. She quickly decided to try hiding in one of the sheds or behind some of the tall plants. If Spock searched for her there, she would run back to the guesthouse; the large structure was probably honeycombed with potential hiding places.

Her braided hair swung over her shoulder when she looked back towards where she'd left Spock. His dark blue jacket stood out against the white landscape even from a distance. He had indeed honored the head start he promised her, waiting until the last second ticked past to begin his pursuit. Nyota let herself laugh aloud, knowing no one would hear. She'd thought that she and Spock knew each other's appetites fairly well; obviously there was much more to learn.

Running across blizzard-hit land was difficult; the snow was unexpectedly deep in places. In some places the drifts rose as high as her knees. She worked her way back towards shallower snow.

Her booted toe struck a metal object poking up from the snow; it made a humming noise and began to sink down into the ground. Nyota leaned forward just in time to see what looked like an oscillating antenna sink below a trapdoor. Upon closer examination, she noticed that the door looked like a smooth piece of slate and that it was somewhat warm to the touch. Her thoughts leapt to a theory, then a conclusion.

She glanced up. Spock was moving in her direction, not really running, but advancing on her with a cocky, easy stride given speed by his long legs. She dashed behind a nearby plant, running toward the sheds.

Nyota moved along a row of storage sheds, some with walls made of open fencing. She tried a few doors; all were locked except for one long structure with a metal paneled roof. Various pieces of recreational equipment were visible through the open door. She peered inside carefully; no one answered her softly voiced, "Hello? Anyone here?" Safe enough, perhaps. Inside, several long racks of snowshoes, skis, sleds, and unfamiliar, sporty-looking objects provided some cover.

Light streamed through a place in the ceiling where a panel had given way beneath the snow. Maybe this wasn't a safe place to hide after all. She turned to leave but her sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps breaking through the crust of snow outside the building. Her footprints would, of course, have been easy to track. A first-semester Starfleet cadet could have tracked her while drunk and using one ear to gossip distractedly with friends on a communicator, and listening to a music player with the other ear. It was hardly a challenge for a determined Spock, even if he was in an altered state.

Heart pounding with anticipation, Nyota slipped behind a rack of skis. She turned and aligned her slim figure parallel to the long skis, breathing quietly. The shed was somewhat dark, except for the bright, jagged patch of light beneath the damaged panel. Snowflakes drifted down through the hole, adding to a mound of snow on the stone floor.

Footsteps sounded near the entrance, changing from loud crunching on snow to percussive steps on stone. Nyota recognized Spock's deliberate pace. Peering through a row of skis, she saw his face in profile as he glanced around curiously at the various types of winter equipment. Even after two days here, they both found such things slightly novel, being children of warm climates. She gauged the distance between him, herself, and the door.

Spock walked up to the mound of snow, looking at it and the damaged roof panel. He pulled out his communicator and signaled someone, speaking in a dry and businesslike voice. "Commander Spock here. Please inform the staff of Bentley House that a shed full of recreational equipment has suffered minor damage to a roof panel; it warrants repair. Thank you, Yeoman. Spock out."

Nyota couldn't hide her huff of frustration. He was the one who'd wanted this. Here she was trying to play along with a fantasy she hadn't even known he'd developed, and he seemed less than devoted to full participation in the experience. He wasn't searching for her hard enough; he'd even made a call that would bring observers to the scene.

"I know that you are here, Nyota," Spock said, his voice a few tones deeper, warmer. Nyota's muscles stiffened, then relaxed. He was using _that_ tone of voice again, the one that promised to do things that she herself could never voice aloud.

Spock's footsteps struck against the stone floor as he walked along the rows of racks crowded with gear. "You have only to decide how you will let me catch you. I _will _catch you, Nyota." He pushed against one ceiling-mounted rack of objects with rounded spikes; it swayed. "I calculate that it will take approximately eighteen Standard minutes for someone to don appropriate clothing and arrive at this location by powersled. If they come on foot it may take twenty-five minutes. In fourteen minutes, with your consent, I can kiss you and manually stimulate you sufficiently to bring you to climax." He rested a hand against the rack to stop it swaying. "Of course, we do not know who is coming here, or how. Tell me yes or no now, so that we may make the best use of our time."

Nyota couldn't decide. Aside from a few illogical kisses and caresses in secluded areas of Starfleet Academy property, they'd avoided foreplay in public places. Better to make a run for it. She turned toward the door and walked behind the rack on tiptoe.

Spock caught her gasp of surprise under his lips as he met her at the end of the row, wrapping his arms around her waist. He picked her up and carried her to the little patch of light and snow beneath the ruined panel. Smiling devilishly, he let her catch her breath before he leaned down for more.

"I asked you a question, Nyota. Tell me what you want. Must I decide for you?" he persisted between kisses and little bites to her neck.

"Spock, someone will come," Nyota moaned, as her hands slid beneath his shirt to feel his hot skin. She pressed her short fingernails into his back and felt him quiver.

"Yes. You." His hands moved over her breasts and she moaned again. "We must hurry, but it is entirely possible. I consider it a challenge, although I do thank you for wearing a sweater and a shirt that both open in the front," he said, undoing the fastenings. Cold air prickled over her bare skin.

"This is impulsive. Are you feeling like yourself?"

"I have seldom felt more myself." Spock freed one breast from the cup of her bra, watching as her nipple pebbled in the cold. He blew a warming breath on it, kissed it, circled it with his tongue, sucked. She cried out loud enough for anyone to hear and pressed her hips against him, but he only said, "Look," and held her so that she could watch while a few snowflakes drifted down from the open roof to land on her breast, contrasting with her warm brown skin for a fraction of a second before melting. He looked into her eyes, smiling, then bent down and sucked again.

Nyota gave up on rational arguments. Now it was she who pulled him close to her for a deep kiss; it was she who reached for the fastening of his trousers and opened them enough to let her slip her slender fingers beneath the waistband of his black knit uniform issue boxers, stroking him.

She hesitated, unsure about pulling down the fabric; she'd heard some jokes about men's bodies in winter, and she and Spock had never done this sort of thing surrounded by so much cold air. Spock didn't seem to be having a problem. His eyes were half closed, and he was squeezing her shoulder with one hand and stroking her face, neck, and breast with the other.

"_Sanoi._" _Please_.

She teased him a little, grasping a few of the hairs along the treasure trail leading down to his penis and pulling them. His eyes widened momentarily and his lips parted. Her fingers moved over his skin again, catching slightly.

"_Bek-tor _," she murmured in Vulcan. _Wait._ She moved close to him to block the flow of cool air over his bared skin, searched her jacket pocket, and found a small tube of hand lotion, a mild type made from ingredients unlikely to irritate sensitive skin. Opening the seal, she squeezed a small dab onto her fingers and spread the lotion over the head and along the shaft of his penis.

"_Weh-rom_?" She asked. _Better?_ Spock answered by kissing her while gently closing her fingers around him. She whispered to him while her hand moved .

"If we were lying down, I could reach your ears and bite them. Or suck them."

"Let us attempt that next." She changed the angle and speed of her hand. "Ohhh—"

"Spock, you never told me you wanted something like this chase." She moved her free hand to the small of his back and pinched and rubbed his skin there.

"I enjoy our usual activities, but I have…thoughts." Spock's lips brushed her forehead.

"I have thoughts, too. Things I secretly daydream about doing with you."

"You must tell me. I am willing to indulge you."

Nyota laughed softly. "I am already indulged. You do so much for me, love, why not do this for you?" She wished that she could tell him how she wished mysterious planetary forces weren't required to make Spock reveal hidden desires, but this wasn't the time. His breathing grew rapid, then shallow. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. She rubbed her fingers low, in a circle at the base of his spine and felt his muscles clench.

It was cruel. He was almost helpless. But –

"Forgive me, Spock," she murmured. Pulling her hands free, she slipped around him and ran for the door. She opened the mental bond long enough to clearly imprint two words:

_chase me_

For a moment, Spock stood staring after her in disbelief, gasping for air. He slowed his breathing, focused his thoughts, and made his erection subside, then disappear entirely. His mental arousal remained; if anything, it grew stronger. A grudging smile crept over his face as he covered himself up and fastened his trousers.

He realized for the ten thousandth time that he had met his match in Nyota.

…

McCoy went to the Common Room to recruit volunteers to help him with preparations for that evening's party. Excited murmurs met his ears as he walked in. A small group of Bentley House staff, _Enterprise _crew, Maddy, and some medical students were either staring out the large picture window or trying to pretend that they were not looking. Jim Kirk waved McCoy over.

"Commander Spock is chasing Lieutenant Uhura," he murmured, his expression conveying incredulous fascination. "It appears to be some kind of game."

McCoy heard a distant shriek, then a giggle. He quickly moved closer to the window to see for himself. Spock grabbed Nyota around her waist, pretended to struggle with her, then let her go. She ran her fingers along the edge of one pointed ear, rose up as though to kiss him, then moved beyond his reach and ran toward Bentley House. Spock waited for a moment before he bent low like a sprinter and followed her, his feet churning up sprays of loose snow.

"A game, yeah. Or foreplay," McCoy said in a casual tone, keeping his voice low.

Jim shook his head in amazement. "Those two confuse me. Even _I_ don't do stuff like that. I'm surprised at Spock. Kinky bastard."

"Shame on you, Jim; you know that Spock's parents were married," drawled McCoy.

Maddy, who was seated nearby, almost spit out her drink; she slapped a napkin over her mouth. Jim saw her shoulders shaking; maybe her spoken Standard wasn't perfect, but she understood plenty.

"Should we psychologically evaluate Spock? This goes beyond relaxing on shore leave."

"They _do_ have a private life, Jim. For all we know, they may do this all the time when folks ain't lookin'."

Jim imagined Spock and Nyota running through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ during off-hours and shuddered. Life in space was weird enough. "I can't deal with that image."

The sounds of doors opening and closing, followed by running footsteps, sounded in the corridor. There was a loud feminine squeal, then a chime from the lift.

McCoy grinned. "Until we receive a distress call from Uhura, I say we oughta stay out of it."

Jim sighed. Where was his communication from Scotty?

…

Inside the lift, Spock pressed the front of his body against Nyota's back. One hand squeezed her thighs; she swatted his other hand away from the lift controls.

"No, Spock, not here in the lift. This isn't the _Enterprise_."

He lifted his mouth from the place on her neck he'd been kissing. "_Sanoi, ashayam_. You were cruel to leave me in that cold shed in such a condition. I demand recompense."

Breaking out in giggles, she bumped back against him with her rear. "You'll get it, you don't need to demand it. Sorry, but it was the only way I could distract you and escape."

"We could have finished. You know from previous experience that I am able to attain more than one erection within a short time period," he said dryly.

"And just how were we going to handle that second erection? Try it standing up in a cold shed?"

Spock turned her to face him as the lift door opened. "I am surprised to hear you speak so frankly, Nyota. Does this game excite you?"

"Three-dimensional chess just doesn't provide the same thrill. Honestly, Spock, you alone are enough to please and excite me. I don't need games."

She leapt into the hallway through the open lift door. "But I am enjoying this one. Head start –" and she was running again.

"_Goh dah-kuh lirt'k _!" Spock called after Nyota as she ran towards the entrance to the upper level of the gym. _Two minutes only._

They hadn't taken time before this game to set any rules. It was becoming difficult to wait. For the first time in his life, Spock considered cheating in a game, ignoring the two minute lead and going right after her.

Or there was something else he could do.

…

The ambassador stood in the conference room. A few stray snowflakes still clung to his dark green cloak.

"Greetings. Nice to see you again, Ambassador."

"Greetings, Captain Kirk. I will get to the point. I owe you and your crew an apology, and an explanation."

"I should have known that you'd hear about the effects of that mysterious stone. Nothing to worry about; I discussed it with the _Enterprise_ away team, and people seem to be managing fairly well. As you may have heard, people are in an exceptionally good, even playful mood, but to my knowledge, no one has become uncontrollable, violent, or damaged any property. I assure you, if there are any problems, the Federation will address them in a discreet and appropriate manner." Jim stopped his lengthy, diplomatically phrased response, and looked at the man closely. "Sorry, an explanation?"

"Well, a partial one. There is no stone, you see. The altered perceptions on Delta Asilo are caused by something completely different."

* * *

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	12. Play

Snow Leave

Chapter 12: Play

Warnings: Sexuality (PG-13/M), purple prose, Emo!Spock, chase fantasy with consent. This story references the _TOS _episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from any fanfiction involving them.

**Note:** Loss of consortium = refers to a legal issue in 20th/21st century time. Example: A person may sue an entity (such as bill collectors) because they have caused so much stress that the complainant cannot have sexual relations with their spouse. To my knowledge this applies to the United States only, but one might imagine that Vulcans and anyone else could find themselves in such an unusual predicament.

…

Spock rapidly completed his entries into the computer panel set into the wall near the entrance of the guesthouse gym and turned around. The incidental use of technology in their chase had not been mentioned; his use of technology was only intended to provide a mutually beneficial outcome.

Two small mounds of fabric lay near his feet; Nyota's winter jacket and her warm scarf. While he counted down the last fourteen seconds of the head start, Spock folded the items and placed them atop a bench near the door; her boots were already underneath. He removed his own jacket and boots and walked forward.

The gym was unlit apart from the soft light streaming down from several skylights placed across the ceiling of the vast room. Spock listened carefully as he prowled through the gym, his eyes scanning the rows of exercise equipment, floor mats, and sporting areas with half walls. He heard feet tiptoeing across a mat, the sound of metal tapping against metal as she moved an object.

Spock permitted himself a half-smile.

…

McCoy applied extra dollops of sweet Southern verbal charm to the Manager of Bentley House. "I hope you won't think that we Starfleet folks are trying to use up the best food in your supplies, but I wondered if y'all could spare a little sparkling wine and food for the party tonight."

"We have enough to last three months of a snowstorm, Doctor, but we should be cautious..."

"We'll try not to use too much, ma'am…may I address you by your first name?"

"Yes…call me Sydna."

"Please call me Len, Sydna. This party is mostly about socializing and dancing. I look forward to enjoying time with you and all the staff; everyone is invited, of course. May I ask you something? We've gotten to know each other a lil' bit, but I don't know if you like to dance. Want to try dancing with me tonight? I promise you, Sydna, I'm good on my feet."

McCoy flashed the rare McCoy Smile, which was gossiped about but infrequently witnessed on the _Enterprise_. It was known to reassure patients in sickbay, comfort worried relatives, and to cheer up grouchy diplomats. The McCoy Smile operated at full, dazzling power on Delta Asilo. Wide-eyed, Sydna smiled back.

"I have not danced in months. I would like very much to dance with you. The more I learn of you, Doctor, the more I like."

"That's right sweet of you." He let his drawl thicken, the aural equivalent of blackstrap molasses drizzled over a stack of pancakes on the morning after a passionate night before. "I appreciate your generosity. I appreciate you, too."

If Sydna hadn't already been resting her hand on the wall near the palm scan entry, she might have swooned – not a problem if Len would catch her. The Manager had met hundreds of charming men during her years on the job and kept them all at arm's length, mindful of job security. Leonard McCoy was appealing enough to change even a sensible woman's mind.

"Come with me. We go into the food storage. You take _whatever_ you like, Len."

…

Nyota rose up from where she knelt behind a half-wall enclosing a small ball playing court, and peered through the transparent wall, ducking down as Spock came into view. There were two doors set into the wall; when Spock's back was to her she slipped through the door facing away from him and ran in the opposite direction.

Turning at the first sound of a foot brushing against the carpet, Spock followed Nyota. She rounded a corner, zigzagged behind a row of treadmills, ducked behind another half-wall – some sort of ball-and-bat cage this time – and tricked him again, dashing off in a different direction. Panting and fragmented giggles broke the quiet of the gym. He nearly caught up with her, but she blocked his progress by hurling a series of inflatable exercise balls and tubes at him. Easily, gracefully, he leapt over them and continued his pursuit.

…

McCoy returned from the storage area, pushing a small cart loaded with spices, local delicacies, and a case of the sparkling wine he'd sought. Ever the gentleman, he'd held the Manager's strong, nicely shaped hand as she stepped off the last rungs of the sliding ladder built along rows of high shelving. Len suspected that she wouldn't have objected if he'd touched something else too, but he knew that a good man waits until asked to do such things.

There was his midnight visitor to consider first, of course. Len was surprised by how full his life had become, if only for a day. He returned his thoughts to the party, more in the mood for celebration than he'd felt in a long time.

…

Nyota had vanished again.

"Evasion tactics are useful to anyone involved with Starfleet, Lieutenant Uhura," Spock raised his voice slightly as he turned and surveyed the area. "Your use of them in this specialized location is impressive. You have almost reached the exit to this room. However, I must remind you that I _do_ finish what I start. Have I ever left you physically unsatisfied?"

Ignoring the trash talk, Nyota quietly raised herself on her elbows, knees, and toes and crawled inside a large, open section of a tunnel. The tube was fabricated from a slightly translucent red plastic-like material. Several sections lay arranged in a twisting pattern across a sort of obstacle course surrounded by a low wall. She'd leave it to Spock to figure out which one she was hiding in.

Spock leapt over the low wall and landed with a soft thud, crouching on the carpeted area next to the tunnel section next to Nyota. Hearing the sound, she scrambled toward the opposite end of the large open tube, but even half-Vulcan reflexes left humans at a disadvantage. Long, strong fingers clamped around her trim ankle, and Spock was in the tunnel with her, turning her onto her back.

…

Jim Kirk didn't know whether to laugh or express his frustration at the Ambassador's explanation. He strove to find diplomatic middle ground. "Sir, I appreciate your speaking with me about this, but I believe my crew deserves to hear it directly from you, as all of them appear to have been affected to some degree."

The older man nodded in agreement. "Of course, Captain. Please call them together and I will address everyone as a group."

Jim thought of the running, squealing, and the chime of the lift and the scant information about his First Officer's private life gleaned from their years serving together on the _Enterpris__e_. Somehow he suspected that Spock and Uhura's current activities could not be described as a quickie.

"I'm sorry, but my First Officer and Communications Officer are…otherwise engaged and cannot be disturbed at this time. Would you please speak with the _Enterprise_ crew when everyone is gathered for the party hosted by my Chief Medical Officer tonight? You and your staff are all invited, of course."

The Ambassador's face had taken on a knowing look at the words _otherwise engaged_.

"Of course, Captain," he answered politely. "I thank you for the invitation and I will speak with your crew at a more convenient time."

Damnit. The man knew exactly what sort of activities kept the Commander and Lieutenant busy. Jim hoped that the man wasn't inclined to repeat more than the usual political gossip.

…

Scarlet light filtered through the tunnel over Spock's green-flushed skin. Kneeling, he gazed down at Nyota's body before clasping her hips in both hands; he dragged her closer to him, fitting her open legs around his hips. The skin of his fingers felt a little warmer than usual as he stroked the skin between the waistband of her heavy tights and the more closely fitted part of her uniform tunic dress. Otherwise, he seemed to have barely exerted himself.

Sensing her thought, Spock gave her a half smile. "I plan to fully exert myself, and you. It would be an accurate description of our situation, my adun'a, to say that I have caught you." He ran his hands over her belly and breasts, caressing, squeezing, making her writhe.

"You really want to do this inside this tunnel?" she protested. "This plastic is hard against my back. At least find a mat for us to lie down on?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Lie still." Spock crawled backward toward the end of the tunnel, holding on to her ankle until the last possible moment.

The moment he released her, Nyota slipped through the opposite of the tunnel. "I'm off duty, Commander; not following commands today." She leapt to her feet, and fled.

Spock crossed his arms over his chest. He'd known she wouldn't obey him. Honestly, he had no intention of being intimate inside that hard tunnel. He'd already made other plans. He granted her a five second start, and followed her.

Nyota's heart pounded. Her hair was coming loose from its braid. She knew that she risked slipping and falling in her stocking feet, but she wanted to keep running and teasing Spock, hoping to inflame him even more. She was enjoying herself tremendously. It was all terribly improper, unladylike, and unmentionable. She could not make herself feel ashamed of it at all.

Using one hand, Spock effortlessly pushed aside the tall wheeled rack that she'd used as an obstacle. He stared at her, his chest visibly rising and falling.

"Yield to me."

Her laugh was low and sultry. "No." She pulled off her sweater and threw it aside.

Spock raised an eyebrow. He pulled off his blue uniform tunic and leveled a challenging stare at her. His biceps bulged slightly underneath his close-fitting black T-shirt. He smirked a little as her eyes widened.

"Mmm." Her exhalation sounded like a moan of appreciation. Nyota moved close enough to snatch the Science blue tunic dangling from his hand; she backed away, placing it on the mat behind her.

His muscles tensed; sensing that he was about to reach for her, Nyota stepped backwards and moved her hands below the skirtlike hem of her long Starfleet tunic. This time it was Spock who stood staring with wide eyes. Tilting her head coquettishly, Nyota held the waistband of her thick knitted tights and began to pull them down, performing a series of hip wriggles, undulations, and pelvic movements. Spock did not blink. His lips parted. She was pleased to see a green flush creep over his face and ears.

"_Ashal-veh_…" he said wonderingly as she pulled off her red tunic, then her own black undershirt, revealing one of the fetching matched brassiere and panty sets that Spock deemed frivolously illogical, yet continued to purchase for her. This set was a deep pink color, a mutual favorite; Spock thought the color's contrast with Nyota's skin so aesthetically agreeable that he had secretly considered purchasing bed sheets in the same color. However, he also liked her on white sheets, and blue ones…

Nyota pulled Spock's Science blue tunic over the visually pleasing underwear, balled up her stretchy high-tech tights and hurled the soft missile at her dazed mate. She was already running across the mats as the tights bounced off his chest.

Spock's heart pounded in his side; he adjusted the suddenly tighter front of his trousers. His face felt odd and he realized that he was smiling broadly. An innate sense of order forced him to place the tunic, shirt, and tights in a small pile on a mat; when he looked up Nyota was placing a bare foot on the rung of a ladder leading up to an elevated platform.

An identical platform was mounted in the opposite corner of the room; next to the platform were a series of small balconies with doors leading to other rooms. A long metal cable spanned a broad distance between the two platforms, and a wheel with a long, heavy strap and handle was positioned at one end of the cable. During the past two days, the snowbound guests had entertained themselves by holding tightly to the strap and taking a running start or strong push from the platform to gain enough momentum to 'fly' across the room and land on the opposite platform with the help of a friend. Dr. McCoy had refused to go near the contraption, although the activity was a common part of entry-level Starfleet training. Accidents were not unknown.

Spock was pleased that Nyota would engage in unruly sexual play with him, but he did not want her to be hurt. He hurried toward her.

Nyota scrambled up the ladder to the small platform, stood at the edge, grabbed the strap securely, leaned back, and flew out into space, thrilled and giggling. As she soared toward the midway point of the cable, she saw Spock climb up the ladder in what looked like double time. He stood waiting for her on the opposite platform with his arms crossed, his black-clad form stark against the light colored walls.

He had her now; she couldn't go back.

Nyota glanced down. An enormous pit filled with some sort of fluffy, shock absorbing material lay below.

"No! You are improperly dressed-"

"I'll fall carefully." Nyota gave herself a second of assessment, then released the strap, tucking her body into a cannonball dive shape. Spock gasped, calculated the risk, and jumped after her.

Her landing was safe, after all. Only a little air felt as though it were pushed from her lungs when she hit the randomly shaped spheres of soft, mysterious stuff. Moving her limbs as though swimming, she rolled onto her back and saw Spock's body hurtling down.

"Spock, you didn't!"

He crashed into the fluffy stuff with a bit more shock – his body was denser than her own – but when she swam over to check him for injuries he was unharmed.

"Have we caught each other, _adun'a_?"

"Depends on who gets out of this pit first." She gave him a playful push and moved swiftly towards the edge of the pit. It was her lighter body density that gave her a head start this time.

"I could discipline you for appropriation and misuse of my uniform," Spock called after her.

Nyota climbed out of the pit and placed a hand on her hip, raising the hem of the shirt to reveal more thigh. "This isn't misuse. My use of your shirt in this manner will prevent you from suing Starfleet for loss of consortium."

Spock paused with his hands on the edge of the pit. Nyota watched, delighted, as a real smile spread across his face and his shoulders shook a little. Spock was almost laughing. He pushed himself up and out, his muscles beautifully displayed by his short sleeves, and walked toward her.

"Oh, _k'hat'n'dlawa_. You are a doctor, to diagnose my problem so?" He teased her in Standard, but his flirtatious phrasing reminded Nyota of some mildly indecent High Vulcan poetry they'd read together a few weeks ago. "_Hassu_ Uhura, I desire your healing. Will you consort with me, please? _Sanoi?_" His hands rested on her waist, but did not remain still; his long fingers moved below the hem of the shirt and rubbed over and around her vulva in persuasive circles.

"I want one more chance, one more head start." Her knees were weakening, as was her resolve.

"I give you a choice. You can have one minute for a head start, the last I will give you; or you can have one more minute of _this _activity," Spock stroked his fingers between the lips of her vulva through the rapidly dampening fabric, making her tremble, "…without a head start. If you make the second choice, then when I catch you…" He raised both eyebrows.

"Game over?"

"No, _ashayam_. Game begins. Are you ready to play?" Smiling, Spock moved his fingers again and deepened the maddening pattern and pressure. "Choose now."

…

**Note:** Loss of consortium = refers to a legal issue in 20th/21st century time. Example: A person may sue an entity (such as bill collectors) because they have caused so much stress that the complainant cannot have sexual relations with their spouse. To my knowledge this applies to the United States only, but one might imagine that Vulcans and anyone else could find themselves in such an unusual predicament.

_Adun'a_=wife, bondmate

_Ashal-veh_= darling, term of endearment

_Ashayam_= beloved

_Hassu_= doctor, healer

_k'hat'n'dlawa= _half of my heart and soul

_Sanoi_= please

I'm not a tech telepath so I won't know what you liked about this story unless you post a few words.

Please review! Thanks to all who have posted a review, commented, favorited the story, or signed up for an alert.


	13. Melt

**Snow Leave**

**Chapter 12.25: Melt**

Warnings: Sexuality (M this chapter), sweetness, purple prose, use of proper names for body parts, Emo!Spock. This story references the _TOS _episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from any fan fiction involving them.

* * *

"Compromise." Nyota bit Spock's neck, much harder than she had yesterday, and he growled. "Thirty seconds head start."

"Agreed." Spock slipped his fingers under the top edge of the pink underwear and inside her, stroking. Nyota's head fell back and she sagged against his supporting arm. "I prefer to take more time with manual stimulation, Nyota, as my observations indicate that your arousal and excitement follow patterns resembling ocean waves." He withdrew his fingers and bent them so that his index and middle finger repeatedly stroked her clitoris. Nyota stifled her moan against the black fabric covering his chest, which vibrated from the resonance of his deep voice as he spoke. "It fascinates me to watch the progression of your pleasure. To use the archaic Earth term for a woman's experience, you are multiorgasmic. If I were in an illogical, whimsical state of mind, I would allow myself to enjoy keeping account of the number of times I can bring you to climax, and I would 'feel proud of myself'. But that is illogical."

He withdrew his fingers suddenly. Nyota sagged against him, her legs trembling. "Aren't you going to…?"

"Your thirty seconds are up, Nyota."

"Spock, you tease. This is revenge for what I did to you in the shed," she panted.

"Vulcans do not seek revenge."

"I'd believe that if you didn't have a smirk on your face."

"Vulcans do not smirk. Twenty seconds are left, Nyota. I am being merciful."

Steadying herself, Nyota smacked him hard on the ass before she turned and ran on shaky legs.

Spock had no qualms about exploiting her disadvantage. This time he caught her easily and turned her over his shoulder, making a little murmur of satisfaction as he moved his hands over her body.

"You have strong legs, Nyota. Have I ever discussed with you the pleasure of feeling your thighs around my hips? I also find it agreeable when your thighs press and tremble against my neck and shoulders."

Nyota wriggled, trying to keep her head level as Spock approached an exit. "Merciful? This talk is merciless. Where are we going?"

"I have made preparations for the next part of this game and will provide additional information as needed," Spock replied evenly. He stopped and made entries on the computer panel next to the exit door; the door slid open and he carried her through it into an unfamiliar hallway.

"Spock, did you lock us in here?"

"No. Such action violates safety regulations. I do not think that it matters whether or not the doors were locked. Did you really want to escape me?"

"You know the answer to that."

"I must remember to make more compelling efforts to discuss the physical and carnal aspects of our relationship with you as a prelude to coitus. Verbal suggestion is powerful. Your body temperature is elevated and you appear to be excited. Is your current position to your liking?"

"Yes, but I wish I could see your face during all of this logical dirty talk," she admitted.

Spock lifted her away from his shoulders, carrying her with one arm supporting her knees and the other supporting her back so that they could look at each other. "Intriguing. I am now thoroughly convinced of the effectiveness of sexual play, despite its frequently unrestrained and irrational nature. I respect your previous efforts to educate me; I may now be accurately described as a convert."

Nyota smiled up at him, rubbing the palm of her hand over his chest. "The chaos of play is logical where sex is involved."

Spock smiled back and began to ascend a short flight of broad stairs. "A fascinating insight, _ashal-veh_. Perhaps what you say is true; or perhaps the influence of this planet gives the illusion of logic to the illogical." He paused before a door, pressed his palm to the computer panel beside it, and carried her into a room.

Soft light shone from small, lantern-like fixtures set into little alcoves around the room. The floor was covered with thick carpeting aside from a tiled area surrounding a small tub; two open doors led to a bathroom with a large shower and a smaller room with a toilet, bidet, and sink. Afternoon light, filtered by snow-filled clouds, streamed in from two windows, their heavy curtains pulled back. A small table holding a small pile of towels and assortment of small jars sat next to a low, large bed with a padded frame. Another table held trays of dried fruit, sweets, pickled vegetables, bread, and carafes of water and fruit juice. There was even a small kettle waiting on a hot plate.

Nyota looked up at Spock. He blushed slightly green, awaiting her reaction. She reached up and stroked his face.

"Oh, Spock. My darling Spock, my dear one."

"Our snowbound state provided me with ample time to think of some occasion that might justify recreational or ceremonial activity. The anniversary of our first mental bonding is two Standard months, five days, and eight hours away," he said.

"I'm happy to celebrate our anniversary early, or on a daily basis. This is lovely. How did you…?" She looked around the room curiously as he set her on her feet near the windows.

"A two minute head start provided adequate time to request a modified version of the 'Afternoon Romp' guest special. It seems that Bentley House is well known in certain circles for its discreet service to bonded partners seeking physical and psychological 'escape'. I read their promotional information thoroughly while you slept the night before last," he admitted.

Nyota breathed in the scented smoke lazily swirling up from a small cone of burning incense and smiled. She draped her arms around his neck. "Some of the cultural dossiers I read before we came here called Delta Asilo a 'glorified truck stop'. There is some beauty in almost everything, if one only looks. This is sweet of you, angel."

"I am no angel, Nyota, but if you wish to find beauty in me I will not object."

"_Wewe__ni__nzuri__na mimi_," she whispered into his ear, and gently bit his lobe. Spock's shoulders trembled in response. Nyota gave him a quick kiss and walked backward towards the shower, making a show of pausing every few footsteps and pulling off his uniform shirt, unclasping her bra, and wiggling out of her panties. Pleased by his stunned facial expression, she started the water. It took him little time to join her. Strong hands and slim, feminine fingers lathered, rubbed, massaged. They reveled in the haven of heated skin and hot water for only a few minutes; after she bit him for the fourth time, Spock suggested that it would be safer to lie down.

The strong legs he had earlier praised were wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the low, broad bed; the dampness between her legs brushed against his growing erection with each step. He did not hurry.

Her fingers moved over his face as he lay her down on the bed. The tension he had held between his eyebrows for the last few weeks had eased; perhaps the small crease would return in time, but for the moment it was gone. She held his hands between her own and rested his forearms between her breasts as she bit and licked his fingers, then sank her teeth into the fleshy heel of his hand until his eyes began to roll back in his head. Regaining control, he panted, "Not yet," and freed his hands, leaning down to bestow a grateful kiss on each of her breasts, then her mouth.

Spock uncapped one of the little jars from the side table and held the open jar under her nose. A light, citrusy odor emanated from the cream inside.

"Nice. Can we try the others, too?"

The next cream smelled like an unusual combination of cinnamon and a light floral. Nyota liked it, but it was the sudden dilation of Spock's eyes as he sampled the scent that made her choose it. As Spock massaged the cream into her skin, it melted easily. She stretched and groaned beneath his hot hands. As he turned her over and began to stroke his way up her ribcage, she shivered.

"Are you warm enough, _ashayam?"_

"Mmm, yes. I'm enjoying this. I'll never think about snow the same way again."

"I believe that the same is now true for me."

"Cold does have its uses. It gave us private time here." She glanced toward the window, rimmed with icicles. A wicked thought strayed across her mind. Spock caught the thought, looked out the window, and turned back to her, his eyes wide.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No, I've _never_ done _that_ before. And I know you haven't either."

Spock smiled, rose from the bed, and strode across the room the the window. He opened it without attempting to conceal his nudity. His powerful bicep flexed as he clasped the top section of one of the shorter icicles and snapped it off with a clear, sharp cracking sound. Nyota's heart rate increased as he broke off a second icicle and sealed the window.

Spock rested both icicles on a clear glass tray near the bed and looked at her inquiringly; she nodded _yes_.

He ran his warm hands over the icicle's surface first to disarm it, blunting the pointed end and smoothing the icicle's surface. The cold tip of the icicle made her squirm as he moved it across the soles of her feet, around her ankles, and up her shins. She gasped when he grasped first one of her legs, then the other by the ankle and ran the icicle over the tender areas behind her knees, then kissed the places warm. Her legs opened wider; he teased her by tracing the icicle around her vulva in the outline of a heart, in a circle around her navel, and then in a series of concentric circles around each breast to the peak of her nipples, pausing to kiss and lick away the little beads of melting ice.

Thawed by her warm skin and his hot hands, the icicle grew thinner, shorter. Spock held it carefully by its base and swirled it around her clitoris until she cried out, then moved it lower and gently pushed it inside her, withdrew it, pushed it in, drew it back, repeating the pattern until it was too much for both of them. He cast the melting ice aside, replacing it with his own warmth. His lips moved against her neck as his hips rose and fell; he sucked her soft skin and bit her lightly. She gave in to pleasure with a shout of his name, her hands clutching his arms as her thighs shook and her shoulders rose from the bed. Spock watched her for several captivated seconds before he leaned forward to bring her out of her orgasmic trance with a deep kiss.

"Good, _ashayam_?"

Breathing heavily, she rolled onto her side to face him. "_Rom. _Yes. _So_ good." As her breathing calmed she pulled a small towel from the pile on the table, wiping away some of the stickiness between her legs. Spock looked so relaxed, even a little smug. Nyota pushed him flat on his back and seized the second icicle from the tray. The heat of the room had warmed its surface enough to make it feel like smooth glass. Patterns of partial melting and re-freezing had formed a series of circular ridges on its surface.

Nyota played with his hands and toes first, outlining them with cold. She moved the ridges back and forth between his fingers in an imitation of intercourse until he gasped, "_Dap-pan-pa!_ (_Mercy_!)".

Laughing, Nyota turned him over. She used the icicle's point to write her name on the back of his neck in Vulcan script, then signed her initials on the small of his back in Standard script, adding 'property of' above the letters. Spock's higher body heat made the ice melt faster, so she focused her experiments on his other sensitive areas. He nearly arched right up off the bed as she traced a cool trail along the creases between thigh and hip and the sensitive plane of skin below his testes. As he had done, she followed the chill with warmth, kissing, licking, biting, sucking. Spock was growling as she murmured, "Turn over."

Spock's entire body quivered as she ran the ice along his spine, pressing down against his hot skin. Moving down, Nyota slid the ice along the creases between buttock and thigh. She rested the point of the icicle on the very end of his tailbone, just above the cleft between his buttocks, and stopped herself. His muscles tensed. She didn't know how to ask him.

Spock lifted his head and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"Nyota?"

"Do you want me to?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "I would trust you to do it. No one else." He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her again. "I do not think that I am ready."

She stroked one warm hand along his side, where his heart beat with an anxious rapidity that betrayed his calm expression. "It's all right. Only if you want to." She set the icicle aside on the small towel she'd used earlier. Turning back to him, she stretched out her hand. He took it and pulled her down for an embrace and a kiss.

"We will not leave this place as the same beings we were when we arrived," he said quietly.

"You will always be my Spock, no matter what happens, or what parts of yourself you choose to show me."

She moved one leg over his hip; he sighed "_Ek-wak, t'hyla_", and slid into her. All thoughts of cold temporarily forgotten, they moved together first easily, then almost fervently. The bed, although obviously purpose-built to withstand energetic use, creaked and swayed as Spock thrust and Nyota pushed back against him.

He moved, turned her, slipped out, plunged back in. She eased him down onto his back, rode him, scratched him without intending to, bit his back, chest, neck, shoulders with full intent.

She felt so wet around him and so good that he could not find words, so he let himself roar and shout. There was no language in the galaxy that could help her express how intensely pleasurable it was to feel Spock moving inside her, so she shouted it and moaned it at him. By the time his fingers moved to the meld points on her temples, both of them were a bit delirious.

They did not reach their peak together – he tumbled first as she watched his enraptured face, then he moved his tongue, lips and fingers persuasively over her clitoris and pulled her over with him – but when they became aware of their surroundings again, neither one had any complaints.

* * *

_Ashayam_= beloved

_Ashal-veh=_ darling, term of endearment. Vulcan.

_Dap-lan-pa /_ _dap-pan-pa_ similar to "mercy" or "uncle"; you are teased until you say dap-pan-pa, then the teasing stops. Vulcan.

_Ek-wak=_forever, for everlasting time; eternally; at all times; incessantly. Vulcan.

_Rom=_ good. Vulcan language.

_t'hyla_ =Vulcan term for an intimate partner, as in "lover". Also used in casual contexts, as a very close "friend".

_Wewe__ni__nzuri__na mimi_= Swahili; the (rough) translation is: To me you are beautiful.

Source: Vulcan Language Dictionary, compiled by 'Selek'.

* * *

I'm not a tech telepath so I won't know what you liked about this story unless you post a few words.

There are two more chapters to go; McCoy's party happens, the Ambassador will talk to the _Enterprise_ crew, and Scotty has something to say. Thanks for following this story to its end.

Please review! Thanks to all who have posted a review, commented, favorited the story, or signed up for an alert.


	14. Frost Flowers

**Snow Leave**

**Chapter 12.50: Frost Flowers**

Warnings: Allusions to sexuality (PG), purple prose, Emo!Spock. This story references the _TOS _episode _Shore Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from any fanfiction involving them.

…

Jim Kirk stopped his pacing and wandered towards the conference room. On the way there, he passed _Enterprise_ crew members tucked into alcoves or curled up in armchairs, each one talking on communicators or using video links in their padds. Snatches of overheard conversation suggested that Miranda, Kim, and Riley were all talking to exes or current partners; he couldn't tell without deliberately eavesdropping. Maddy had already secured an interview with one of Jim's spaceflight contacts and was discussing her skills by video link, not a centimeter of cleavage in sight. She'd seized the opportunity Jim offered and run with it. Jim was glad. It had been a while since he'd given more to an affair than he took from it.

His communicator sounded.

"Scott to Kirk. Come in, Captain."

"Kirk here." Relieved, Jim entered the conference room, where he connected to the video link and grinned back at Scotty's beaming face on the screen. "Mr. Scott, at last! Is everything all right aboard the _Enterprise_?"

"Aye, Captain. I've rather enjoyed being in command whilst you were away. I'm a bit concerned about the lot of _you_, though. Your last communication was rather…unusual."

"Can you switch to a private channel, Scotty?" Jim asked warily. The engineer had contacted him from the privacy of the Captain's ready room on the _Enterprise_, but he couldn't be too careful.

"Aye, aye. Done. Now spill yer guts, Jim Kirk."

Scotty tried and failed to hold back small bursts of laughter as Kirk summarized the illusions and behavioral changes; even with the more lurid details missing, his engineer was amused. "Wee Miranda fighting a great big snow monster? Drunken snowshoe races with Kim and Riley? Spock shoveling snow? Uhura gone Vulcan and fighting with naught but logic? And all caused by an allegedly magic stone, tae boot. Aye, the haggis was in the fire!" He winked at Jim. "And _you_, I suppose, got up to your usual horizontal activities with the locals."

"That's unfair, Scotty, I don't _always_…I mean, I didn't interfere with the Horta when – say, how do you know about any of that, anyway? You didn't even accompany me on the last two away missions. Is my rep still that bad?"

"Every man is famous for somethin' and Jim Kirk is known to flirt with any sentient being as will let him buy it a drink. P'raps some non-sentient as well. "

Sighing, Jim admitted, "I did meet a skilled and attractive pilot here. You may meet her in a professional context eventually. No more gossip about me. I'm going to settle down someday. I'm looking, kind of."

"Maybe slow down yer pace a bit? As they say, 'He that fishes afore the net, long e're he fish get.'"

"Uh…what?"

"I mean that ye must prepare yourself to appeal to someone else who will settle down. Prepare your net before you go out fishing. A steady partner is more likely to be attracted to a steady man. Not that ye asked for my advice, Captain, but 'tis how I see it," Scotty explained. "Anyway, Captain, back tae business." Scotty switched off the privacy setting. "Atmospheric conditions have improved. I can have the away team back aboard within seventeen hours. Is Mr. Spock at hand?"

"Let's try his communicator. He may be, uh, occupied."

"Aye. Indeed. I suppose our dear Communications Officer is busy as well." Scotty's eyes creased at the corners; he smiled but didn't comment further, contacting Spock.

…

Luck was an illogical concept, but the timing of the communicator's tone pleased Spock. It was more convenient to hear it now, while Nyota applied the last few swabs of disinfectant to the thin greenish scratches on his back, than it would have been thirty minutes earlier. Following a shower, they had enjoyed talking quietly while consuming the dried fruit, vegetables, and tea.

"Commander Spock here."

Together they listened to Scotty's greeting and directions for the beam up.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott; I will convey the relevant information to all away team members. I would like to express my appreciation for your admirable management of the _Enterprise_ during the past two and a half days. Spock out."

Nyota handed Spock his black T-shirt and blue uniform shirt. "And with that...our idyll comes to a close."

He kissed her and pulled on the shirts. "We made an agreeable use of the time. I regret nothing."

"Nor I." She opened the door, and peered out into the empty hallway. "I hope that I don't draw too much attention walking through the guesthouse in this big robe…oh!" Her neatly folded clothing lay in a basket next to the door. Two pairs of boots, her own and Spock's, were lined up beside the basket.

Snatching up the clothing and footwear, she pulled them inside. "Everyone knows what we've been doing!"

Unconcerned, Spock ran his fingers over his hair, combing it into place. "Yes."

"And as usual, you don't understand why I am embarrassed." She began to dress.

"While I do understand the importance of modesty and respect for privacy, it is illogical to pretend that I have no physical intimacy with my bondmate, who is an intelligent, empathetic, morally sound, and therefore attractive person. Where is the shame in that? I would never discuss our activities outside a medical setting, but surely you realize that part of our chase was observed by colleagues and hosts."

"Polite people won't mention it."

"Nor will they believe that you spent the last three hours playing three-dimensional chess with me, or translating Andorian communiqués." He crooked his elbow in an old-fashioned gesture. "Shall we? I believe there was earlier discussion of evening festivities, which I will willingly attend as part of my plan to continue pleasing you."

"How wonderful you've been to me today. Thank you, my _adun_. I like this plan."

"It is a most agreeable enterprise."

…

Temporarily abandoning the party preparations, Nyota wiped traces of flour and sugar from her hands and joined the rest of the _Enterpr__ise_ crewmembers in the conference room. The Ambassador, clad in an elegant suit made of some expensive looking local textile, bowed over her hand.

"Lieutenant Uhura. I believe you are the last? Ah, one more; greetings." He nodded to Yeoman Kim, who stopped flexing his guitar-weary fingers and straightened his shoulders in a military posture as he crossed the threshold.

Looking unruffled within the semicircle of curious gazes, the Ambassador spoke. "Dear friends of the Federation, I believe that I owe you an apology. Information about an unusual feature of our planetoid was not provided to you upon arrival. As you know, Delta Asilo is widely known as a transportation and logistical hub, a place of business. Our reputation as a popular recreational destination is not widely discussed. You were told a story about a stone with a mysterious force. Although many local people believe this story, it is no truer than the illusions many of you saw. These illusions are caused by a machine created by one of our early settlers over a century ago."

"Impossible," someone muttered.

"Possible," murmured Nyota. She described the antenna-like object she had observed sinking into the ground, and the Ambassador nodded.

"The stone your Captain observed covers part of a large underground technology network with an exceptional capacity to alter perceptions and exploit verbal suggestions and weakened physical and psychological states. Captain Kirk, how long has it been since your crew assembled here enjoyed a period of official shore leave?"

"At least six months, for most of us. Eight for some." Kirk replied.

The Ambassador's shoulders quivered in a subtly horrified shudder. "Oh, how _dreadfully_ uncivilized! Far too long, if you don't mind my saying so. On Delta Asilo, we value play. We value rest, amusement, excitement, _pleasure_. No being functions well for very long without it. That is the philosophy of the machine's inventor. The pleasure may be as small as the sight of a beautiful landscape or as large as a fantasy adventure managed by technology," he inclined his head in Yeoman Miranda's direction. "If someone arrives on Delta Asilo in a state that might be considered 'stressed', the effects of the machine may be powerful, unpredictable, and chaotic."

"Cultural dossiers describe Delta Asilo as a center of transport business, efficient and financially robust. The more complex the society, the greater the need for play – is that it, Ambassador?" asked Kirk.

"In some ways Delta Asilo acts as a playground. Some visitors want nothing more than a comfortable hotel. Others act out the dramas they carry within their own hearts. Wishes and desires are fulfilled here, at least for a few hours."

"What are the characteristics and structure of this machine?" inquired Spock.

A well-mannered smile spread across the Ambassador's face. "With all due respect, Commander Spock, we natives of Delta Asilo do not believe that the outside worlds are yet _ready_ to understand our people; I must leave your question unanswered." He leaned forward in a smooth half-bow. "However, I invite you and anyone you may wish to bring from the _Enterprise_ to enjoy themselves here on our planetoid for the rest of the week, at my personal expense. We will do our best to ensure the safety and comfort of all."

It was clear that no further explanation was forthcoming.

Kirk stepped forward and extended his hand. "Thank you, sir. As you are linked with the Federation, I understand that you have given your word. Some of us will return to the ship, but as long as we can remain in orbit, some of our crewmembers will be beaming down in shore parties for a few days of leave. Dr. McCoy has a party planned tonight. Mysteries aside, you are welcome to join us."

A bemused Spock and McCoy accompanied the Ambassador towards the common room. Kirk called Scotty, telling him to inform groups of the _Enterprise _crew to pack their bags for a few days' worth of rotations of shore leave.

…

Music, food, and dancing occupied everyone for the next several hours. Riley was thrilled to give his concert at last, accompanied once more by Yeoman Kim and the students. The fully restored electrical system made it easy to play recorded music during the rest of the evening.

McCoy was delighted to find that his dance partnering skills put him in demand. Spock, appearing unusually relaxed, responded to Nyota's yearning expression and led her onto the dance floor. The challenge of the tango appealed to the scientist in him, and he liked the dramatic flair Nyota expressed when she danced it with him. The way she held her head and performed leg hooks conveyed sensual elegance. Later, Spock pretended to let Nyota talk him into a line dance. Despite his age and experience, he was still reluctant to ask for some human pleasures. Line dances were a cultural practice for which he harbored a secret fondness. The beats were usually easy to count and follow. Although the song lyrics associated with line dances were typically nonsensical, he appreciated the clear instructions provided in such phrases as "right foot, two stomps!", "To the left, y'all!" and "Do the Shorty George!" It was possible to avoid emotional display by attending to what Nyota insisted upon calling 'style', and moving one's hips and shoulders in accordance to syncopated rhythms and beats. It was mildly amusing to observe his colleagues pretending not to stare while he danced.

Maddy, to no surprise of Jim's, was just as confident on a dance floor as in a cockpit, although she seemed to restrain her hip gyrations until the Ambassador left; then she sketched figure eights and circles with her curvy figure. Other Delta Asilo locals moved their bodies in similar ways without regard to gender roles, reminding the offworlders of the planetoid's reputation for pleasurable escape.

Nyota circulated among locals and crewmates at the party. "Is everything going well with you, Jonesy? We've had a strange time here."

"Life is good, and interesting." Jonesy leaned closer and whispered details into Nyota's ear, her eyes sparkling as she glanced over at the kind medical student.

Nyota gently squeezed Jonesy's hand. "Oh, he seems like a great guy! I talked to him a bit on the night of the power failure. He's nice, polite, seems sensible. It's been a while since you saw anyone on a regular basis. I hope this turns into something good for you."

"I have shore leave – _official_ shore leave – scheduled seven days from now. I was planning to visit family in the States. He's already asked if he can come visit me between his interviews at teaching hospitals. I think that people from Delta Asilo aren't big on wasting time. Maddy, the woman the Captain is, uh, spending time with – _she_ didn't wait. Naturally I won't rush things with him, but I felt comfortable with him right away." She smiled dreamily, and then gave Nyota a curious look. "Was it like that with you and the Commander?"

From the moment she'd set foot on the _Enterprise_, Nyota practiced strict discretion with regard to her partnership with Spock. 'Girl talk', a welcome indulgence for a woman who valued friendships with other women, remained off limits to her except during a few cautious calls home to her sisters and cousins. Even then she coded her discussion with enough regional colloquialisms, metaphorical phrases, and inside jokes to confuse even a listener familiar with the languages they used. Occasionally she joined shipboard discussions of current events and the whims of the human heart, but she never spoke Spock's name. If anyone mentioned the bridge crew, she quietly left the room even if the comments were positive. Socializing on a starship was difficult. Gentle, even-tempered Jonesy was one of the few she trusted.

"I can tell you this much. It wasn't long before it was obvious that he would make a difference in my life, but it took a long time for me to understand what that meant. Even though we are bonded, I build on that knowledge every day. After the first blaze of love, it's like…we work to keep things good, it isn't fate or magic. We aren't always starting over again, but we keep adding to it, growing it, reshaping it. That's so vague, it must sound silly."

"That isn't silly. Sounds like real life to me. You're lucky; Mr. Spock seems to try as hard as you do. I know you're both discreet, but I do notice small things." Jonesy winked at her. "My parents are the same way. They're in their _sixties_ and they still hold hands." She giggled.

"I hope you'll be as lucky as your parents were, Jonesy. Here comes your guy now; I think he wants a dance."

…

Mindful of tomorrow's farewell and the return to responsibilities, some partygoers made their way upstairs at a surprisingly reasonable hour, but not without effusive thanks to McCoy.

"Y'all make me feel like the most popular kid in school. I'm glad that folks had a good time." McCoy strolled around the ground floor, chatting with remaining partygoers and bidding others a good night. The Doctor noticed with surprise that his Commanding Officer and Communications Officer were leading the party cleanup effort, working side by side with Bentley House staff. In the big kitchen, Jim Kirk teased Maddy while they loaded dishes into a cleansing unit. Federation hierarchies were temporarily forgotten. One more story that no one aboard the _Enterprise_ would believe when he told them, and he wasn't drinking anything stronger than fruit juice tonight.

Finally, with the Common Room tidy and the light of three moons reflecting through the windows, the last partiers made their way to bed. Promises of a final snowshoe lesson for Starfleet waited for the morning. The _Enterprise_ crew had made a good impression and accomplished diplomatic goals. Perhaps the night would be quiet, filled with sweet dreams.

…

"Len?" The voice spoke low, although they were alone in the room. "I need to talk to you." The door closed behind his visitor.

Leonard McCoy felt his heart sink. He'd worried that this was coming, didn't know how to fend off the inevitable. He tried to cut disappointment off before it traveled any further. "Hello there, you. Come sit by me. I wanted to say something to you, too."

Maybe if he kept on talking, things would change, go the way he wished them to go, just this once. "Y'see, I'm something of an old-fashioned gentleman about these things. I don't like this hidin' and sneakin' around. If I'm interested in someone, I'd much rather court 'em right out in the open."

"Well…"

"At least think it over, sugar. Is there someone else?"

"You could say that, yes. I'm sorry – it just wasn't an issue when I came to you earlier. Things have changed."

"The two of you don't live together or anything?" Len didn't wish to be a party to cheating.

"No, I wouldn't do that! We aren't exactly _together_, either, but...I'm sorry, Len. I do like you, very much."

"Your heart is otherwise engaged. I understand, really. I've fallen in love before. There's more to my life than divorce and Starfleet." _Maybe._ "Thank you for your honesty. You have to do what's right for everyone involved. I hope that things turn out well for you, I really mean that."

"Thank you. I _did_ like being with you. Good night, Len."

"Good night."

How would he fill the hours between now and Scotty's beam-up call? Turning off the light might help. McCoy knew that darkness wouldn't help him sleep. The loneliness would only take on new forms.

Brooding, he ignored the soft scratching sound until it became a knock. McCoy pushed himself up from the bed and peered at the security image. The dark eyes of the Manager of Bentley House looked back at him. Someone was ill, then. He opened the door.

"Sydna, is everything all right? Is anybody sick?" He saw that she wore elegant sleepwear made from diaphanous, flowing fabric. The robe and gown hinted at a mature and appealing figure underneath, a body with muscles made strong from years of hard work and country girl living and maintained by Delta Asilo's admirable planetary health care system. Not even efficient geothermal heating would help someone dressed that way to keep warm, although the seductive garment could certainly be said to generate its own heat.

"No, Len, no one is ill. Everything all right. I _hope_ is all right." Her fingers plucked nervously at the nearly transparent fabric.

McCoy remembered how difficult it had been to flirt with someone just after his divorce, feeling self-conscious about his age and rusty social skills. Earlier that afternoon, he wondered if she were really flirting back or if he'd misunderstood; cultural differences made him uncertain of how to interpret things. Now all doubt was removed.

"Oh, sugar. It's more than all right." Len clasped her hand, kissed it, and pulled her toward the bed. "Just sit your pretty self down right here."

Earlier, she had melted a little bit under the warmth of his Southern charm; that much he'd been able to discern. Why not please her with his words? "That is a nice robe you're wearing; maybe I can help you remove it so I can see that lil' wisp of a nightgown better?" He let his fingertips brush her shoulders as he pushed the fabric back and away from her body. "My, my. You are a beautiful woman."

"Very kind of you to say so."

"Not kind, truthful. Sydna, I found you attractive from the day we arrived, but I didn't feel free to say anything about it. Now here we are, alone. We're both grown folks here, right?"

"Yes. I think I am more grown than you, in years."

"That ain't a problem as I see it. Age means different things to doctors and clever men, honey." He stroked her knee, working his way up along her thigh as he spoke. "Aren't we always the same inside in some ways, no matter how old we get? And of course there's that age and wisdom thang. Now let me tell on myself a lil' bit." McCoy leaned forward, placing his lips against the soft skin of her earlobe, and whispered. "The older I get, the more I know about pleasing a woman."

Beneath the fabric, her thighs relaxed and parted. "Oh, _Doctor_," she sighed.

He kissed her neck and pulled back to smile at her. "Darlin', you're gonna have to remember to call me Len if you want me to show you what I've learned."

"Of course, Len."

"I do like to hear you say my name; you have such a lovely voice. Do you mind if I leave that small light on while I demonstrate a few…Latin terms?"  
…

Nyota carefully disengaged herself from the heavy embrace of her sleeping husband and stood, searching for the warm robe provided by the guesthouse. She felt hungry, even though she'd eaten dinner and a few treats during the party. They had reached for each other again as soon as they lay down in bed. Considering the energetic nature of the day's activities, her hunger shouldn't really be a surprise; even Spock was really sleeping instead of meditating or in resting in some sort of Vulcan stasis. He'd said something about his jaw, lower back and hip muscles being slightly sore. As she lay awake she remembered the numerous hallway alcoves stocked with snacks, fruit, and extra tea and hot drink supplies. A quick visit to the alcove on this floor of the guesthouse should provide something to calm the residual excitement and stimulation of the day.

Light from Delta Asilo's three moons shone along the long hallway as Nyota closed the door softly behind her. For a moment she wondered if there were some species of night bird on the planetoid as she walked to the alcove; she could hear soft calls and cries coming from several different directions. She stood still and listened. Not birds, but people. Moans, sighs, whimpers, and muted strings of lovers' words came from behind what seemed like every door along the hallway except her own. An hour before, she and Spock had probably been just as audible in this chorus.

Everyone deserved a little pleasure in life, and some privacy. Nyota shrugged, and began to hum to herself in a determined fashion as she found a small container of sliced bread and prepared a cup of tea. She refused to let her disciplined ear separate out the individual voices of the people she worked with and cared about. She ate and drank and recited verb tenses to herself from six languages so that she would be unable to confirm who screamed, who moaned, or who laughed at crucial moments. She ignored which demand of "_take me / more / again_" came from which door. She was unsure who said sweet things and who talked dirty. Nor could she pinpoint with certainty the source of the buzzing motor of a sex toy. She filled her mind with words and it all became indistinct. It was none of her business. Everyone had been kind enough to stay out of the way while Spock chased her across the grounds and the gym, which was supposed to be a public space, not an erotic obstacle course. Nyota Uhura tried to be a good friend and co-worker. She knew when silence was useful.

The bread was tasty and the tea aromatic and soothing. Nyota quietly washed the cup and set it on the rack to dry before returning to her bed and cuddling up to her own warm, naked man.

* * *

_adun_= husband, bondmate (male). Vulcan.

Apologies & a hat tip to Marleen Gorris (_Antonia's Line_) for the hallway scene; if you've seen the film you'll know which scene I'm referring to! Imitation, sincere flattery, etc.

The Scottish proverb quoted by Scotty (He that fishes afore the net, long e're he fish get) is from _A Collection of Scotch Proverbs, by Pappity Stampoy_, published in 1663. An electronic version is available from the Project Gutenberg site.

I'm not a tech telepath so I won't know what you liked about this story unless you post a few words.

Please review! Thanks to all who have posted a review, commented, favorited the story, or signed up for an alert.


	15. Snow Angel

**Snow Leave**

**Chapter 13: Snow Angel**

Warnings: Emo!Spock. This story heavily references the _TOS _episode _Shore__Leave_, written by Theodore Sturgeon, and there are other TOS references.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from any fanfiction involving them.

* * *

Morning brought a mixture of sunlight breaking through heavy clouds, and a large breakfast buffet cooked and served by everyone in an atmosphere of chaotic good cheer. Nyota, Spock, Leonard, and Jim got their snowshoe lesson and a brief snowshoe hike, led by a few medical students, Sydna, and Maddy.

"Where's that camera?" McCoy asked. "I ain't beaming up from this planetoid until I make a snow angel, and I want a picture of me doing it."

"I beg your pardon, Dr. McCoy?" asked Spock. "Here is the camera; we have recorded numerous images of all of us using snowshoes. I do not understand the term 'snow angel'."

Leonard chuckled. "Watch!" He let himself fall backward into a patch of snow with an unbroken crust, and moved his arms and legs back and forth. He stretched out a hand to Spock, who pulled him upright. "Look, see the shape there?"

"Indeed. The shape does resemble typical archaic Western European Earth representations of such spiritual beings. This is a strange activity."

"It ain't logical, it's supposed to be fun, Spock. How often do you get to lie down in the snow?"

"Rarely, for which I am grateful."

"I say we don't leave Delta Asilo until you make one, too."

Overhearing McCoy's comment, Nyota laughed with delight. "Please, sweetheart?"

It would be cold, uncomfortable, and probably damp. It was undignified. His _adun__'__a_ would enjoy it. He might even enjoy it himself.

Arms spread wide, Spock found a clear space and let his tall frame fall back. Broad movements of his arms and legs formed the outline of wings and robes. His high body temperature melted the snow quickly, and he could feel a line of wetness along the skin between his hair and his jacket collar. Nyota was giggling and McCoy was taking pictures and Jim and Maddy were cheering. It was worth it.

Spock clasped his wife's outstretched hands as she helped pull him up, and he inspected his work. "Mission accomplished."

He kissed Nyota then, in front of the others, while snowflakes from a new snowfall caught and melted between their lips.

…

"I'll miss you, Maddy."

"Nice of you to say, Jim, but is not necessary. I had fun time with you, and thank you for the job contact. I sign a trial contract with a big company last night."

"Congratulations – that was fast."

"I know how to go after things. Like you, eh?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Don't worry about saying you could maybe fall in love with me, other hogwash. I don't love you either. Do like you very much, and you a pretty boy, Kirk. _Very_ pretty. But we both got lives to live separate. Good luck to you, fly safe on _Enterprise_, and maybe we meet up and sleep up again some time." Maddy gave him a kiss and an affectionate pat on the bottom.

"Right," Jim said. "You're a great woman, Maddy. Good luck to you too." Women didn't usually write him off. He was the one who ignored heartbroken messages and declined to answer calls from the sleepless and betrayed. What the hell had just happened?

…

Farewells said, hugs and kisses given, the _Enterprise_ crew and the people of Delta Asilo prepared to part ways. Dr. McCoy was the last to arrive, hurrying over to the open area they were using as a transport pad; he and the Manager of Bentley House had spent a rather long time behind Sydna's closed office door, Nyota thought, but then she was distracted by the way Jonesy's medical student suitor gazed at her with his whole heart and soul in his eyes. A betting woman might wager that one Standard year hence, Jonesy would be going on leave from Starfleet or a new medic would be joining the Federation, having called in every possible favor and sought out any possible influence in order to find a way aboard the _Enterprise__. _

Kirk smiled a bit sadly at Maddy over the edge of his communicator. She winked back.

"Mr. Scott, we're ready," Jim said. "Beam us up."

"All right, you lovelies, hold together," Scotty said, and the transporter beam kicked into action.

…

Excited crew members rushed through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ past Spock and Nyota, smiling on their way to the transporter room and shore leave. Nobody seemed to notice that the First Officer and Communications Officer were holding hands on their way back to their quarters.

"No illusions of the bullies from your childhood on Vulcan appeared on Delta Asilo, Spock," Nyota said quietly.

Spock replied, "For the most part, I have dismissed the past, as the bullies of my own childhood dismissed me. They will know nothing of the fine qualities of my own half-human life. " He brushed his lips against her temple, heedless of the flow of people in the corridor around them, and they entered the turbolift.

"Life on New Vulcan may force some to reexamine their prejudices. Beyond that...my wishes and desires are small ones. I desired pleasurable time with you, Nyota. This desire was fulfilled."

"Would you ever consider returning to Delta Asilo for shore leave?"

"I am willing to discuss the possibility; however, I insist that we schedule our visit during the warmest months of their year. I do not wish to knowingly expose you to cold climates unless it is unavoidable. The hypothermia you experienced was distressing. Although I understand that all beings are helpless from a philosophical standpoint, it was difficult to realize that I was unable to protect you. I…I…" he suddenly held her very close.

"I think that I understand." Nyota stroked his face as the lift doors opened. "I was fortunate. Everyone tried to help me, and I recovered easily. We had more time together, and the time was good; I'm thankful for every minute we have. I have no regrets about our snow leave."

Three weeks after their return from Delta Asilo, Nyota realized that her period was late.

…

Dr. M'Benga conducted a customary medical review of the returned members of the first landing party; as was customary, he submitted the relevant information to Captain Kirk for inclusion in his final Captain's report on the visit to Delta Asilo. Brain scans revealed no abnormalities, crew members had no physical injuries or indications of exposure to toxins, and each person seemed to be in a good mood while they answered his routine questions.

Dr. M'Benga had completed some of his medical training on Vulcan, working as an intern in a hospital located in a quiet neighborhood – of course, most Vulcan neighborhoods were quiet ones – full of bonded Vulcan couples. The types of scratches, marks from love bites, and mottled green bruises visible on the back, chest, arms, and thighs of the patient he now examined were therefore quite familiar to him. However, if one were to consider personality alone, M'Benga would have quietly admitted that he felt mildly shocked to see such marks on the body of the stoic Commander of the _Enterprise__._

Spock's voice was calm. "Doctor, please take no notice of the minor damage to the outer layer of my skin. My bondmate administered them all. We both examined the scratches and there appeared to be no risk of infection. All of the scratches were cleaned. I am quite well."

"Of course, Commander." Dr. M'Benga stepped behind Spock as he passed the medical scanner over the Vulcan's back, concealing his incredulous facial expression while he kept his voice expressionless.

M'Benga looked down at the padd displaying what he had considered a discreet entry. _Numerous__ minor __cutaneous__ scratches__ and __other__ signs __of__ trauma__. __Nature__: __marital__. _ "I see no need for further treatment, or indeed, for the inclusion of any detailed descriptions in my report." M'Benga swiped his finger across the text and it disappeared.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Despite his awareness of her bonded partnership with the Commander, M'Benga was surprised that the demure Lieutenant Uhura had done the erotic damage. They'd once had a long discussion of her experiences as a teenage volunteer translator in an Anglican-run hospital supervised by nuns. Occasionally he saw Uhura modestly tug down the hem of her Starfleet uniform miniskirt. It seemed odd that a politely brought up woman from a typically sedate United States of Africa household would even dream of biting anyone, unless powerfully motivated to do so.

"That's all, Commander; thank you for coming in, and welcome back to the _Enterprise_. I believe that Dr. McCoy is next."

Though far from green, McCoy's back and shoulders also carried light scratches and impressions of finger marks. M'Benga didn't even bother to enter the relevant notation this time, but he did raise his eyebrows at McCoy, who grinned back.

"That was one helluva shore leave. I think you might like it there. Let's grab a coffee soon and I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has read this story all the way to the end! Please "gimme some sugar", as Jonesy or McCoy might say, and review or comment.


End file.
